#look at how wise (read: grey) i'm getting!

[elenadoeslife]

Okay, how cute is this new hair clip?!

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SxF Crack Theory: The Identity Of [REDACTED]'s Father

Hear me out here.... but, maybe, Twilight's father could be Yuri's boss, aka, the SSS Lieutenant.

Now, this might be a crack/joke theory, but here is the evidence I have to back up my claim (yes, I'm presenting it because I'm just Like That):

(Warning: Manga spoilers ahead)

Exhibit A: Physical Characteristics

Here is a picture of Agent Twilight:

Here is a picture of Yuri's boss (who, from now in, will be referred to as YB, for my own convenience):

We can see that Twilight and YB have very similar facial characteristics: bluish-grey eyes, blond hair, and a similar face shape (nose, jaw).

We never see Twilight's father's full face: only the lower half, because he has presumably forgotten his face, along with his mother's (King of Emotional Repression™️), but we can see that his jawline and shape of his mouth are very similar to Adult Twilight.

Oh, and look at that- rather pronounced cheekbones, if I do say so myself. Where else did I see those? Hmmm

Exhibit B: Ambiguous Fate

During the War Arc, we're never told about [REDACTED]'s father's fate. We just know he never returns to his family: and the reason why he left for the very last time, was that, "Things have been heating up at the border. I need to take a little business trip." The fact that his, a (presumably) rather important man's, body was never recovered: nor were [REDACTED] or his mother informed of his death. Of course, his body could have been lost in the bombings, or the part of [REDACTED] finding out about his father's dead could have been omitted, but for most of the part, we're left to assume about his father's dead. And... this sounds familiar to another instance...

Like the instance of [REDACTED]'s friends. He (and we) assumed they'd died in the warehouse as children, but later we see that they're alive and in the army (only to die a second time, RIP), but this time, for their deaths to be confirmed: for [REDACTED] to only receive their dog tags after the failed campaign.

This may have been a setup: for Endo to reintroduce [REDACTED]'s father, later in the story, as YB.

Anyway, one thing I've learned after reading and watching so many books, comics, and TV shows: never assume a person's dead, not unless their body/proof of their death has been explicitly shown. This belief was only reinforced after [REDACTED]'s friends.

And, [REDACTED]'s father's last known place was around the Westalian-Ostanian border. He could have escaped in the crossfire, theoretically...

Exhibit C: Fatherly Nature (?)

We all love a good found-family dynamic in the workplace. It's there with WISE, it's there with Garden, and it's kinda there with the SSS.

My main argument about this stems from the chapter which focuses on Yuri's work.

We see YB continuously worry about Yuri's physical health, in panels like:

Obviously, this doesn't happen only in this chapter. Whenever Yuri's there, YB is also there, yelling at him to a) go to sleep, or b) STOP GETTING HIT BY BUSSES OH MY FUCKING GOD IT CAN'T HAPPEN SO MANY TIMES TO ONE PERSON-

And, of course, there's the Yuri Sick Fic chapter:

Not gonna lie, this point is extremely weak, if I brought this up in court I'd be laughed out of there-

Anyway, I just wanted to put this in.

If it does turn out that YB is [REDACTED]'s father then. Bestie. Buddy. How are you managing to be a better father-figure to some insolent kid who gets hit by busses than you were to your actual son, like 20 years ago. Maybe he learned along the way.

Exhibit D: Symbolism (???)

Oh, look, another point I'm pulling out of my ass! But whatever, you're reading it <3

During the War Arc, we see Twilight sustain two major injuries:

One, as a child, when his home is bombed:

And two, as an adult, in the army:

and these injuries are both to his left eye.

Of course, this has given rise to theories of him not being able to see his left eye, it being his blind spot, and Yor guarding his blind spot on missions, etc., etc., which I love bc ✨Twiyor✨

Getting back on point, if we look at YB, we see that he has injuries too... or rather, remnants of them, what with the scars he has...

which, are also on his left eye. Huh! Interesting... this might just be me, but could this be parallels to how similar he and his father were? Are? His father also wanted peace between Ostania and Westalis: but he taught his child that in a very harsh manner (by slapping him), but Twilight wants to teach Anya that in a kind manner. Whenever we see him teaching her, he never loses his cool with her (of course, he loses a lot of hope, but this man's a pessimist, what can we do).

Also shows how much kinder Twilight is, compared to his father.

---

Of course, these points are very weak, and it might just be that Endo reused some character designs for efficiency, but let me be, ok!! This is a crack theory!!! Let me be a clown!!!! AKDFJSJF

If I'm being honest, this post was inspired by a convo I'd had with my friend, around the time Chapter 86 was released. She was theorizing that [REDACTED]'s dad is the Shopkeeper, and I was theorizing it was this dude. Of course, our theorizing was sidetracked by Chapter 86, and a certain panel within it, but... WHATEVER.

So, what are your thoughts? Obviously, my own theory is very weak (for example, why would the SSS accept a Westalian citizen into their ranks? Why would he even join the SSS? Could he have defected? Abandoned his wife and kid?), but this was fun to think about, lol. What are your theories? I think the Shopkeeper-is-the-dad theory and the YB-is-his-dad theory are both cool, so, what do you think?

(Also, yeah, I know, his dad could very well be dead. I just refuse to believe it, bc I'm just Like That <3)

[smolvenger]

Greetings bestie 💖🫡

Requesting a Professor Hiddles story (you can choose what subject he's teaching) where he already has this friendly type of dynamic w/ Reader and she's nervous about finals week and he goes "Tell you what, if you ace all your exams I'll take you out to dinner. Anything you want."

…And then (surprise surprise) she wants to skip all that because she just wants him 🫠🫠

I shall leave spice level entirely up to you 😏

And for some ✨inspiration✨…

Hi bestie! Thank you for requesting a Prof! Tom fic! I loved writing it!

Exam Aid (Prof! Tom Hiddleston x Student! Reader)

Summary: When finals have gotten you down, your Shakespeare professor offers some help...and motivation...

Word Count: 5939 (woof)

Warnings: Eventual Smut at the end! NSFW! (Reader is a college student ((if undergrad or graduate that's up to you)) so she's over 18. Dom! Prof Hiddles and Sub! Reader, dirty talk, vaginal fingering, doggy style, doing it in an office. It's super filthy when it gets there, so be warned), mentions of anxiety and insomnia and mental health. My Shakespeare tastes and my IRL English Major college experiences are used and referenced bc it's my indulgent fic too and I do what I want. Some hurt/comfort. Prof Hiddles being both a dom and silly goofy in one fic bc get you a man who can do both.

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss@ijuststareatstuffhereok89@evelyn-kingsley@jennyggggrrr@five-miles-over@fictive-sl0th@ladycamillewrites@villainousshakespeare@holdmytesseract (smut starts at "I'm good at more than just kissing" and ends at "He looked at you with a sweet smile", for your comfort, bestie) @eleniblue@twhxhck@lokisgoodgirl@lovelysizzlingbluebird@raqnarokr@holymultiplefandomsbatman@michelleleewise@wolfsmom1@cheekyscamp@mochie85@muddyorbsblr

 It wasn’t the actual week of finals. Oh no, you knew how the drill would go. It was the month or week before. It would be assigned. Every last essay thrown on top of you. And with professors without a touch of reality for students.

“Who the hell has time to read and finish A Tale of Two Cities in two days?!” you thought as you shoved your unabridged copy of Dickens in your bag. Promising yourself to get through as much as you can and then read the Sparknotes summary in the morning. You weren’t immune to it.

Throughout your time in college, you had many a professor. Professors came in varieties. There were creative writing professors who ranged from tiny women who would assign short stories that made no sense to blonde men with glasses and toothy grins who loved it when their male classmates wrote exploitative abuse. Mythology professors with Greek accents and tans. Then there were the mixed bag of literature professors. 

The previous professor of the literature survey for Shakespeare also taught the American Literature Survey course. He was Dr. Rutledge. He wasn’t from this year, or even this reality. Either a wise old sage or a kooky scientist from the movie. He had long, thin grey hair, and wore bow ties with black glasses and thick tweed jackets. He smiled and would speak for hours in a tone half sarcastic, half serious. You knew he would go back home and cozy up with a whole copy of Moby Dick next to a fireplace as he sipped on tea or even scotch if he was feeling adventurous. When he brought up sex and seduction with the Scarlet Letter it was the equivalent of hearing a nun confess her last orgy. 

So when you registered this year for the Shakespeare course, that was the sight you were expecting.

Since the first day in walked someone different. He may have been wearing a suit, but he definitely was not Dr. Rutledge. 

Everyone was gossiping and chattering and sipping on their iced coffees when they fell silent. Every single back stood up straighter at the sight of him. Young, tall, virile. Long, curly reddish blonde hair. A goatee and glasses to show his maturity. Sharp suits that framed every inch of his lean but fit body. Eyes and cheekbones to die for. A jaw so straight it made the men taking the class question if they were.

No introduction of “hi, I’m-” No icebreaker games. He only stepped forward, to his podium. Held onto it, everyone leaned forward. He had all of you in the palm of his hand. Then, with his clear, bright baritone voice, he spoke-

“Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this sun of York…”

His voice…something about it. So…rich…Goddammit, he picked that one, the opening speech of Richard the Third. If he picked Romeo’s balcony declaration or something like that, you would be in even more danger of falling onto the floor in a horny heap of suppressed yearning. But no…it was Richard the Third’s monolgoue. Of all the characters he was playing, of all the characters in the Shakespeare canon you could thirst after, it was fucking Richard the Third. Definitely not known as a hunk or even a likable person according to canon. 

But the way he said it- threatening, villainous even. He leaned in and confessed his true feelings about the royal family and his plot to destroy them and rule over them. You could already feel something stirring inside you. And it was eight am in the morning. 

As he finished the monologue, speaking it so naturally it was as if it were his own words, the class burst into applause.

With a casual bow, brushing his curly blonde-red hair out of his face, he introduced himself.

“Hello class- good morning. I’m your professor- Professor Hiddleston, and I will make this as fun and engaging as a morning class on Shakespeare can be.”

From then on, you enjoyed the class. You tackled it on- after all, you wanted to have some fun. You loved Shakespeare. But Professor Thomas Hiddleston…was a bonus. Thank the lord he wore suits. And if not suits, white shirts with the sleeves rolled up. He might as well as taken it off for you. 

You went through various sonnets. Then explored the poetry- Aphrodite and Lucretia. Then the plays. Even plays that the undergrads thought the most dull he made intriguing. He made everything clear with Shakespeare’s life too himself- how the Bard lost a son named Hamlet. How Shakespeare was accustomed to the great courts and low brothels Prince Hal tasted both of. 

When theatres did productions or there was the odd movie adaptation in theatres, everyone went to go see it. Then he had a showing of lesser-known film adaptations. Showing how Orson Welles framed the shot of Falstaff to make the large knight seem even larger. The Bollywood Othello where at long, long last Emilia survived and she was the one to kill Iago, much to the class’s cheering.

“Are there any other movies we should watch?” he asked.

One kid shot up and suggested Shakespeare in Love. He raised an eyebrow.

“ It was not Shakespeare’s invention to have the lovers die. Romeo and Juliet was a a known story in Elizabethan era England and everyone knew back then that the lovers died. It’s like someone just suggesting that Superman comes from another planet- we all know he does. Not  because of him having an illicit affair as his poor wife was left to raise their surviving children far off and alone!”

“What about Anonymous!?” cried one kid, trying to be cool.

He let out a deep, ragged sigh. 

“There is more than enough evidence to suggest Shakespeare wrote the plays. Every criticism says he can’t write it because he was uneducated. However, if you look, there are hysterical inaccuracies in his geography And no one questions the authorship of Maya Angelou because of her lack of formal education! Just because he was not a nobleman, does not mean he was not aware of things as you are! Every Anti-Stratfordian argument boils down to classicism.” 

It was the best class you took. Having him teach definitely helped. And he would invite people for coffee talks and of course, you would bolt to join. Yet you enjoyed it- seeing him so relaxed. Warm in his coat as everyone circled around to talk about plays they knew of but hadn’t read in this class.

“Well- all of us went through our high schools. We all read Romeo and Juliet- what do you think?” he questioned them one autumnal day. 

“They’re just brats! Ugh!” one guy snarled out.

That you couldn’t take. You set down your drink, glaring at him. 

“They’re not!” you cried out passionately.

Eyes turned forward to you. You wished youcould have slapped him, but you stopped.

“Well, Y/N…why do you think that? Why are they not brats?” the professor asked. 

“I think…the plays aren’t meant to be realistic. Of course, they fall in love immediately- so do Rosamund and Orlando but no one calls them brats! It’s not Romeo and Juliet who get everyone killed! It’s not their love that hurts anyone- it’s just the feud and Paris l thinking he is entitled to Juliet’s body after her supposed death! No one knows about them- only they, the nurse, and the priest know about it! They’re innocent! Juliet calls Romeo her ‘friend!” Her one and only friend! That’s how alone she is without him! They are just innocent victims of a greater scheme. Hamlet and Othello fall prey to their own flaws- but Romeo and Juliet are just two young kids caught in the crossfire!”

You didn’t realize how passionate you were. You felt your face get hot with embarrassment as the class gaped at you. But the Professor was nodding his head. He gave you a small smile as you sat down.

“That was…very good. Next time, use the text and a few sources, and you have yourself a good essay, Y/N,” Professor Hiddleston said.

You liked how he challenged you. He would only want you to do better. He wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass, but he would support you. You would ask after each other. He told you a bit about his life- about how much there was to grade. How he got the job. Little things- but little things only added up to how much you liked him. Even…even…no, you couldn’t you would never say it aloud. But your bedtime fantasies…you were more than mere friends…but that was only for fantasies. 

You tried to let those regular Shakespeare classes comfort you. But finals were taking a toll on your sleep, and your health. You were so wound up and stressed, trying to read and perfect essays that you had trouble going to bed. Your brain kept churning- unable to think of anything else but your work. You couldn’t realx- you worked so hard to get into this school, this degree. If you didn’t pass then…you would be a failure and all that work to go to this school would be for nothing. 

At least after a sleepless night, you had something to look forward to- to distract yourself. But even lately in those classes, you curled into yourself. The heaviness of your exhaustion and the jolt of your anxiety over finals in an unending cycle of misery. You were so…tired…and done…and drained…you knew it would pass with time…

After class, as everyone filed out, Professor Hiddleston walked over to where you slowly gathered your things. He held out a hand to you.

“What is it, Y/N? You’re usually smiling and happy here. But you seem very grave lately…has something happened?”

You shook your head.

“Not really just…finals…I want to do well. I can’t get C’s- I want to do them perfectly! I want to! I want this degree! Now I…I’m so scared of failing…I wanted this school so much, now I…I…” you began to mutter.

You felt tears wriggling out of your eyes, and your breath shook as you uselessly tried to hold them back. He handed you tissues from his coat pocket. You felt like a trashbag- crying in front of this fucking Greek God. But he looked at you kindly. You wiped your eyes. Snot threatened to release from crying and you blew your nose. Ugh, he would think you were especially gross after that. But his gentle smile did not change. You wrapped up the tissues and tossed them aside- then he handed you the little plastic package.

“Is it mansplaining if I give you some advice?” he asked.

“Oh, no…it’s not…” you said. 

“Break your studies apart, Y/N. Ten little minutes at a time. A break. Then ten more. If you take time to focus, it will help you. Or if you make it fun and play music or make little drawings, then you have a picture as well…I know it means a lot…but if you rest, you will recover…and you must think smart, not hard,” he advised.

“Okay…” you nodded.

“Y/N, there are counselors here…they will help you and you don’t have to pay anything. They; 've helped me, and so many others, they should help you…” he suggested. He got out pamphlets from a corner of his desk to give to you. 

“I’ll see one…Why are you so kind to me?” you asked impulsively, looking up.

He put his hands in his pockets, glancing down, and then back up.

“If I may be frank, you remind me so much of myself when I was a student. I had a thesis I had to write on Shakespeare’s problem plays…and it consumed me. I wish someone had given me that advice at that time-I only want you to suffer a little less. Don’t be so hard on yourself- like I was on me…”

You nodded up at him, adjusting the straps of your bag and gathering your things in your arms. 

 “And I’ll..I’ll make it fun- I’ll think of a reward for after…” you said.

He placed his hands in front of him, his lips tightening, and then in a rushed exhale, he spoke. 

“Y/N…how would you…you…you like dinner? After finals?”

You perked your head up. Was this real? You blinked at him, saying nothing.

“Y/N…make me a bet…Go to counseling, break apart your studying, get through your finals, and do as well as you can…and I will take you out to dinner, how does that sound?” he asked.

You smiled at him, your heart beating fast. But yet…you were touched. You put a hand over your chest and released an exhale.

“Professor that…that sounds wonderful…” you answered.

“Ah, excellent. Now- is that a deal?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

You gave him a smile and a small laugh.

“It’s a deal,” you replied.

You managed to get a counseling session scheduled for tomorrow. You went inside, sat, met the kind therapist, and smiled as you vented and cried out your feelings. When you went back to where you lived and spent your emotions, you crashed onto the bed. It was the best nap you had ever taken. 

You followed his advice. You broke down studying or writing essays and researching. You took more breaks. You had made flashcards with doodles for the tests and were catching on quickly. Your research was more fruitful and your essays were getting better in your eyes. You found you slept a bit better at night.

Each day as you sat in at 8 am, the Professor would smile at you and nod. You felt more like yourself again despite the looming deadlines. And they didn’t seem like a matter of life or death anymore. 

Everyone knows the week before finals are hell. To study and work so much with no time off from usual classes. But… you would still miss that 8 a.m. Shakespeare survey- and the handsome professor in his suits.

“Y/N, don’t be scared- you will be phenomenal,”  He gave you a wink that turned you into jelly.

Damn him. To think you would have dinner with him. You turned around to peek at him erasing the markerboard and glimpsing his curved bum,  how his hair curled at the back, and his broad back.

Yeah, now that was motivation to do well.

You studied and wrote with enthusiasm. You completed it all in due time. The essays were to your satisfaction.  When you settled at night, you cuddled his pillow. Remembering his smell- be it his shampoo or cologne, the mild, citrus scent. Fantasizing about him. Of dancing slowly at a formal event with you in an evening gown. Feeling his hand on your back and his head lowering down to touch your forehead. Of sharing ice cream. Being a damsel in distress for him to rescue. Then you thought of his body…. And the images changed to something naughtier. Wearing short skirts and showing up to his class. And him noticing. And lifting it up…

You conked right to sleep.

Finals week began. The entire campus knew it was stressful and went ridiculously out of their way to cheer up the students. But it was a lot of fun, you had to admit. Having dogs on campus to pet. Discounts on coffee. That Monday morning the cafeteria was packed with the free breakfast they offered. Once you brave the long lines for free food, you headed out to your first final. 

Professors, to your amusement, dotted around the campus. If they didn’t have a class to be in, they were handing little care packages while dressed in silly costumes. The sight amused you and made you smile.

Then walking up, you turned to the right and jumped at the sight with a happy, surprised gasp that became laughter. Professor Hiddleston himself wore a light, frilly tutu made for girls a quarter of his age over his pants, little costume fairy wings over his shirt,  and had a headband with little stars on top like ears. 

He turned towards you and his face turned bright pink. 

“Professor Hiddleston! What is this?!” you asked.

He opened up his arms to present his silly costume.

“We’re doing our anti-stress events! I am here to provide you with help with your stress!” he announced theatrically.

You put your hands akimbo and surveyed his costume up and down. If the class knew, they would lose it.

“And you’re doing it?!” you asked.

“Why not! I’m not a stick in the mud all the time! I can have fun!”

You laughed again.

“I should take a picture and send you to the group chat of our class!”

“I don’t see why not!”

He posed as you took a picture. 

“And how are you feeling?”

“I feel better! Much better now- I feel like I’m ready…”

“Good! It will be done soon! A bit at a time!”

He handed over a stress-free care package. Exchanging smiles, you continued by with a lighter step in your shoes. 

You went to every test outside of the pre-written essay. You knew what to do as you wrote short essays for the tests. You didn’t completely panic and wrote them as well as you could. When it came to every exam,  you felt you knew and understood the material. The week flew by. 

Sure enough, on that Friday, with shaking hands and a turning stomach, you looked up your grades. Taking in a breath right when the clock hit noon, you tapped a shaking finger on the mouse.  The link buffered on your computer to view them. Then it lit up with revelation. 

You passed them. You passed them all. In fact, you did very well. 

Your heart was racing but—you realized…you didn’t have his number. Only his email address. With the still nervous feeling…you emailed him, your professor.

“Hello Professor,

My grades were announced- and they’re all spectacular. I passed all of them. So…you made that promise…are you available for dinner?”

You sent it off. You could only ruminate for five minutes- his response was quick. 

“Of course, dear Y/N…

Here’s my number below… Meet me in my office. The parking lot isn’t far from it.”

You managed to text him immediately. You were giggling and pacing your room like a high schooler as your phone buzzed with his responses.  You re-read them as you paced about with your phone in your face. The high of your crush floating you into the clouds. You were going to go to a nice restaurant- one wasn’t finalized yet, but something nice. And that meant you had to look the part!

You were so excited. You made sure your makeup was how you liked and that your hair looked clean. You put on a part dress-one with a shorter skirt. It was too perfect not to. It was cut only a little low to show some mild cleavage. The collar was wide enough so that it showed your collarbones. It was nice, but flirtatious and romantic. It hugged you in a perfect fit while making you feel amazing and sexy. 

Sure enough, you went over to his office. The place was abandoned. All offices and buildings on the Friday of the Finals are in the early evening. You walked over and knocked on the door.

He opened the door and your heart almost stopped.

He was lovely. In his suit. His curls and that slutty goatee combed. Smelling fresh and clean. He still was in his blue suit- bringing out the blue in his eyes. Loving, beautiful.

“Ah, Y/N- please, come in,” he welcomed.

You followed suit. He closed the door. There was a second where you just looked at each other. Despite his goatee, you saw him biting his lip.

“Now, how about that dinner, Y/N…” he offered. “There’s La Gardeniera-suitable. A nice place for a special occasion as this…”

You gave him a shrug.

“I don’t care…anywhere…” you replied. 

“Anywhere? ” he asked.

He put his hands in his pocket and looked at you. It was a simple office- white and brown as many are. There was a bright window, the blinds turned over, as the setting sun’s rays fell over it. There was a small bust of Shakespeare and a pitcher with cups of water. His desk had a neat stack of papers, and annotated books all over it. Cozy and comfortable- like how he made you. 

“I just…I want to be with you…I don’t mind. Take me to a McDonalds and I won’t care…” you went on.

“Y/N…I…me?” he asked.

“Yes, you! We don’t even have to eat or…to, uh…I just…” the words were failing you and you felt your heart pick up. You looked down at the floors and then back up at him. 

“You want to…to be with me…” he walked forward curiously. But you did not retreat. Did not back away. You only met him in his blue eyes, welcoming him.

“Y/N…are you sure?” he asked.

He took a step closer. He was right before you. And you did not retreat. You met his gaze. So close. The tension between you.

“Professor Hiddleston, I am sure…I just want to be with you…anywhere…you just…make me happy…” you finally confessed.

“You make me happy too…” he murmured

He leaned forward, seeking permission. You gave a shaky nod. 

Then he kissed you.

 Something in you released. So long it was boxed up- now wild and free.  He immediately took his hands and ran them up and down you and you held onto him in the kiss. Feeling him as he deepened it with the wet sound of lips. Grabbing onto each other, releasing what had been held for so long. He released and then kissed you-again, then again. Like he was drowning and you were air. 

“Mphm- what-what were the grades?” he asked before kissing again.

You caught your breath and took a break still close to his lips. 

“Passed them. Flying colors,” you reported.

 He kissed you again, moaning into it. Then he broke it again.

“Well now…my little student…doing so well…” he rasped.

You grabbed him and heart racing you felt him kiss you. His facial hair scratched against you. He kissed you back. He backed you up.

“You’ve been…good…” he breathed, pressing you there into it. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. 

“Mphm- this feels…feels so nice…you’re a good kisser,” you whispered.

“I’m good at more than just kissing, my dear-”

He held you, pulling you close. He backed you to the door-holding you against him. He then reached a hand and turned over the lock. It was sealed with a click. His hands then returned to you. He cupped your cheeks, then it slid down your neck, and your chest, and then settled on your wasit. 

“I’ve…I’ve…God, I’ve wanted you so much…I…I don’t know if I…think I can…hold back…my dear, I-I-if you’re not…not ready, I’ll-”

“I don’t want to leave yet- let’s wait for dinner-take me. Fuck me here, now,” you begged. 

You didn’t need to say any more than that.  ou shuddered. He found your skirt and touched your leg, lifting it up. Feeling your skin, cold from exposure.

“All this…is all for me now…”

His hand reached over your leg. His long fingers possessively gripped each bit of flesh. Enjoying it- feeling you for the first time. Treasuring you and making his mark- you were his and his alone. He wrapped an arm around you and lifted you up onto that door. You let out a sound He then took your leg and guided it to wrap around his waist, holding onto him. You were so dripping wet you could feel his pants brushing your soaked panties. He held you easily-so, so easily. Just muscle and wall holding you and keeping you in place. He managed to lift you up- keeping you up with how pressed he was to you. How warm. Keeping him on you.

Your lips crashed again. You kept touching him. One hand finally touching his hair- his beautiful, long curls. The other kissing into him. In his suit, he began to ground against you now that you had nowhere to go away- not that you would leave. He kissed you with tongue and fire. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him back, wet noises and messy, desperate need.

“Tom…Tom, I-” you murmured.

He touched your chin, shushing you.

“We’re still in my office, my dear. And you will call me Professor,” he said.

He reached a hand down- feeling hte seat of your soaked panties. Smiling from teh effect already.

“Yes…yes, I will…” you breathed out. 

“Now- my little angel. She did so well…and she comes to me, so needy…so desperate-first for her finals and now for my cock-”

You held onto him, touching his tie. Pulling him up. You felt his erection stretching through his pants. The hooded eyes and soft voice, his hot breath. You gave him a smile- eager to have him. 

“I’m going to rip your clothes off and fuck you senselessly- and I want you- I never heard a thank you- I want to hear your gratitude for how I take care of you in every way…how does that sound? Too much for you?”

“It sounds wonderful for me-Professor,” you purred in response.

He wrapped an arm to help you up and carried you- legs around his waist.

. He then backed you over to his desk. He kept one by you- so close, so close. He took a hand and shoved aside the books and papers. It didn’t matter- now there was you. 

He pulled up your skirt. Desperately trying to find the zipper. Almost shaking in his long fingers. His erection seeping through his pants- he was so pent up.

“All that time. Wanting you. Feeling you near. Do you know how many nights I had to jerk off to imagine this- you! Seeing you- feeling you right there- my little beauty, angel, and siren at once.”

He shoved your dress off and down. Now in your bra and underwear. His hands went to under your straps- feeling them already- his bare flesh on your bare flesh. You were backed there.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you what?” he asked darkly.

“Th-thank you, Professor.”

He kissed you again. You were his little pet, his toy, his plaything. And you would please him- You held onto his shoulders. Grinding more into his body, He was still. Yet you heard his breaths, catching in his chest. He still remained clothed. 

Then in a rush, he gripped your bra.

“You won't need these- not with me.”

With a strength that made you gasp, He ripped your bra in half. He breasted so fast, panting like a beast. Looking down at your breasts.  Both large hands fondled them, moving them around. 

“Th-Thank you, Professor,” you whispered.

“But there’s one thing- one thing keeping me- from what I need” he growled.

He reached down, and in a second, he ripped your panties apart again in half. You gasped at the feeling. The cloth in two- uselessly falling apart.

“No bra- no panties when I see you -easier access- do you understand…I have a need for you, do you get it-”

“Yes- yes, sir.”

“Close- but not it. You forgot. And you’ll be punished.”

He turned you around, so your bare ass was shown. He immediately spanked you hard- it clapped around you. You let out a shout.

“It’s thank you-Professor.”

“Thank you Professor!” you cried out, feeling the sting. 

“And you will get it right!”

He spanked you again, harder. The momentum made you move against the desk, feeling your ass move with it. And feeling his greedy eyes all over your exposed skin.

“Th-Thank you, Professor!” you cried.

He pulled you back up but kept your back to his chest. He kissed your cheek, fondling you from behind, whispering in your ear.  

“If you don’t want another punishment-Tell me what I am-”

“You-you’re my-my-”

The words failed you. He leaned you down again and spanked you.

“You’re my professor!”

He spanked you again.

“Say it again- and say thank you-”

“Yes- yes- thank you, Professor…”

He grazed over you. Feeling you. You were catching your breath. Dripping so hard. He put his hands against your inner legs. 

“The more I do this- the more I see you, the more I’m with you, the more you- you torture me. I can’t stand it- I-I have to have you, Y/N- I have to, I have to-do you- do you want-”

You lightly turned your head over to see him and could have gasped. 

He unzipped his pants and lowered them. Already his cock was large and twitching. It leaked so much, that his precum made you shiver. It drizzled down and made a path down his leg. You clutched onto the desk, smiling and bracing yourself. 

“Yes- take me- take me on your desk, Professor…”

He smiled, and then his hand made you bend over it again. ‘

“Spread. Your. Legs.”

You were such a horny querying mess, he touched your legs so that they spread for him. Then finally, you felt him at your entrance, and inside. 

You let out a long groan- and so did he. As he got in - inch by inch. 

“Yes- yes all-ah!” you cried out as he got all of himself in you. 

He eased you in at first. Your legs again over. He gave a few gentle, experimental thrusts. It was slow, even sloppy. Each intrusion, poking you inside. You were making an appreciative groan. You ground your hips further against him. The room was hot and smelled thick with sex.

“There…you can take…take all your professor's cock, can you?” he growled.

“Yes-yes I can..”

He then made a sharp thrust inside and you cried out.

“Oh!”

He then experimented- hips rolling towards your ass. You let out sounds like you never heard yourself make. He then had a hand to keep you down. To keep you down And then he began to pick up. Slamming into you. Keeping you still, close, on him. 

“Nrg-nrgh- yes-there-fuck-there’s my-myfuck- good litlte student-nrgh-want to please me- hrng-begging-begging to-shit-yes-yes-darling-begging for me-”

You were moaning into it. Your body shakes forward and back from his thrusts. You felt yourself spiraling. Then he slowed. He leaned down and whispered into your ear. The pleasure was at a standstill, you caught your breath as you heard his hot voice right beside you.

“You have another order- cum only when I’m about to-cum when I tell you- yes?” he demanded

“Yes!”

“Yes, are you grateful!” He moved his hands to feel your arms. 

“I am- th-tahnk you, Pr-Professor.”

He went back up and began to thrust again. Slow- then medium. You let out those pornographic sounds out as he did.

“Fuck- what you do to me, darling,” he breathed out. 

He let out another gasp, his voice itching up in a groan and then back down. Then he slammed into you, letting out a loud voice. 

“Who is going to let you cum?  Who lets you cum when you’re a good girl?” he rasped. 

“My-my- fuck-professor will- will let me-cum-yes!

“Not yet- not yet-mine is-if-fuck, it’s building.-”

He spread your legs wide and entered you. Then he grabbed your hips. He began to pound into you. The desk shaking- the wall quivering. Slamming against that wall with a thud-thud-thud-thud-thud-thud. He whimpered your name. You clung onto it, your knuckles popping out of you.

“Yes-Yes you are-beautiful little student- you are-g-grateful- fuck.-tight-so tight- shit-”

He was so deep, just rutting into you. He was an animal. Pure fucking you into the desk You felt the itch of his suit- the deepness of it. The papers scrambling away- scratching you. The pure ecstasy of it.

“And” thrust “tell me-” thrust “tell me this”- thrust “darling-”

He laced a hand, it reached your folds. You let out a whimper. He dug around- two fingers in-already feeling you. God- you weren’t going to last. He wasn’t going to like it, but you weren’t going to last. You let out a whimper as you felt him inside you.

“What” thrust “ is it” thrust”- “what is it- good” thrust “good girls do- ”thrust

“They-they-they get to-to-to come, Professor-”

“Yes! Yes-you're at my-my limit-gods-gods- what you do to me-You’ve been good-so good- I can’t-I can’t-so cum, darling-”

He strummed you. And you let out another intense gasp. He was strumming you. His fingers making you more open, his cock in, out, in out. You felt it build- he played with your clit so much. Trying the right place, You felt it rise, but not there. And he kept thrusting. A frustration in his rasp.

“Yes- dammit- why won’t you now? Why won’t-won’t you cum?! Cum, dammit- cum- darling- fuck, fuck- god- yes, gods, I’m there…I’m getting there, cum, dammit- why won’t you cum…”

With a new fury, he pounded against you into the desk- the filthiest, most intense thing you felt. The pleasure building up you, going up, up about to be out of control. 

“I’m- I’m going to-I’m going to-I’m going to cum, professor I-I-I”

It would spiral up, yes, but you had yet to reach it. You ground your hips further, moving from his thrusts, as his fingers were there- finding you at the still of your high and just needing your brink.

“Yes- God, yes-cum, darling-I order you, your professor orders you-Yes- yes, cum, girl, dammit- do it, cum, darling- fuck, I’m about to- do it- CUM!” he deamnded like a yell.

With a last shout you cried- “PROFESSOR!” and you came.

Spiraling down from the pleasure. It broke into chills over you-your voice left you and yet your heart was racing. You could feel him gushing into you and yet you could also feel the cum from your own body between your legs, on his fingers.  He panted. He then moved you over. You saw his hair wild and arrayed. You moved it out of his face.

He looked at you with a sweet smile then took your hand and kissed it. He sat you down on a chair and took off his jacket- putting it over you like a cape. Then he went over and got you a glass of water from the pitcher. 

His voice had softened, he kept touching your face, checking for any accidental bruises or marks.

 “How are you? Are you…are you alright, Y/N? I didn’t go too…too-”

“You were perfect- it was perfect,” you replied with a smile. The water wasn’t super cold- but it was fresh. 

He let out a sigh of relief. He then cupped your cheek. 

“You should see yourself how I see you. You’re glowing. Absolutely glowing-I had only hoped you were…were happy with it…”

He looked down at the ruined bra and panties.

“I’ll buy you another…” he muttered in apology.

“Oh- an orgasm and dinner and new bra and panties? You spoil me rotten already!” you teased.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and then he helped you back to dressing. 

“Here-we could…go back to my place and order something. At this rate, it might get late. I’m not that good of a cook-I was hoping a restaurant would impress you. I hope you don’t mind…”

“How could I, Professor?” you added, taking your hand in his. 

[xelasrecords]

Secrets and Sacrifices

Han Jumin x Reader

NSFW

Jumin and you make sacrifices for the RFA. You don't know how much more you can take, but Jumin does not plan to let you out of his sight.

Secret Ending AU where the secrets drag on and relationships are more complicated.

TW: depression, self-harm, controlling behaviour

Words: 2.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Your friends are laughing around you. The restaurant lighting has dimmed, and the lambent glow from the candle on the table illuminates their happy faces. All of you are tucked into a padded leather sofa in the corner, the live music playing behind you.

You echo their laughter. It's the appropriate response.

Seven is sharing an outrageous tale, and Yoosung is his enraptured audience, constantly nodding and asking follow-up questions. Zen chides him for believing everything Seven says but still laughs along. Beside you, Jaehee reaches over you and sets the empty plates aside in anticipation of Seven's dramatic gestures.

Jumin is impervious to the racket. He swirls his wine and watches the advertising screen outside the window, the billboard flashing bright in the evening. His grey eyes are glazed, unfocused. He's missing V, you're sure. That's all he does, aside from worrying about you. Waits for V to contact him.

Languidly, you lay your head against the cushion. This should be a pleasant dinner, but there's a damper placed on your emotion valve. You've lost the means to conjure the excitement you once felt. The knowledge of missing them is not the same as feeling it.

You look down at the corduroy skirt that has ridden up to your waist, exposing more than half of your thighs. You dig your nails into them. Five seconds and release. Little scythes are imprinted on your skin. There, a feeling. You swipe your fingers through the indents with dull fascination.

Today is one of the rare days when you are cleared to venture outside without compromising security, but showing up here feels like a farce. You're playing puppet to prove that you're fine before being corralled back to Rika’s sterile shoebox apartment.

Jumin and Seven's dutiful little puppet, that's what you are.

When you glance up, you can feel the weight of Jumin's attention on you, intense gaze shifting from your lap to your neutral face.

You don't feel guilty. He will find out anyway.

You drag your skirt down and straighten your posture, the band sitting around your hips again.

"Is everything well?" Across from you, Jumin's smooth baritone voice rises above the peals of laughter and the increasingly loud music.

The chatter halts as your friends turn to you with a concerned expression.

You crack a smile. "I'm all right. Just tired." Jaehee squeezes your hand, and you pat hers with reassurance. The friendship you foster with this little group is built on thin ice, and long cracks have been crawling across the surface. "Let's go back, I have work tomorrow. So do all of you."

Seven's shrewd eyes flash at you before he grins widely at the others. "Except for Yoosung!" He pokes Yoosung's side, which earns him a light punch on his shoulder.

"A wise decision," Jumin says. "Everyone should get some rest."

"Easy for you to say." Zen glares at him. "I don't think I can sleep a wink tonight. My skin is ruined from all my lost beauty sleep." He sighs and turns to Seven. "Is there no progress on V's secret files?"

Seven pouts and shakes his head. "I'm still trying to break through the encryption walls, but Jumin can give me Elly to boost my motivation!"

Zen instantly sneezes and curses while Jaehee hurries to pass him a napkin.

An agent with a lifetime of diversion training. You hold back a scoff.

Jumin, Seven, and you are only shrouding yourselves with more secrets because you are determined to reach the same goal: Don't let harm come to the RFA. Don't share any information unless it's crucial. Not even Jaehee. Not yet. Let them live in the almost idyllic bubble as long as they can.

For a split second, Jumin seems as if he's about to scold Seven for the deliberate mispronunciation of his cat's name, but he shakes his head and calls for the bill instead.

Jumin has changed. You wonder how much he has to pay in unravelling V's secrets. If selling his peace is worth the members' peace. But you know what answer he would give. It has never been a matter of choosing for him. He will always protect the RFA.

He will always protect you.

Along with the others, you file out of the restaurant through its gilded swinging doors. Jumin immediately arranges their transport home and reminds them to inform their arrival in the chatroom. You pretend not to see Seven exchanging a calculating look with Jumin, his mask briefly slipping. You wait for your turn, but it never comes.

You have anticipated that, though.

Jumin places his hand on your lower back, his dark hair in slight disarray from the wind. You shiver. His touch still has the power to hold you together just as it has the strength to pull you apart. "Driver Kim is already on his way. You won't have to wait for long."

You nod and stare out the parking lot. Surveillance disguised as an act of chivalry. Since Seven stopped trusting V's contingency plans and revealed your address to the members, he and Jumin have worked together to keep you safe as you help them clean up the mess V left behind.

A familiar black car pulls up before you, and Jumin holds the backseat door open. You climb in, greeting Driver Kim before giving him your address. Jumin enters after and sits so close beside you that his trousers brush against your bare leg.

You press your thigh against him a little more.

Jumin gently caresses your knee, but there's a frown on his face. "Your address is already saved in my car navigation. Did you forget that?"

You have honestly forgotten. Thoughts slip around you these days. Try as you may to capture them, it's as if you have to squint through a lattice window to make out the memory fragments and piece them together. You get away with it most of the time, the fact that you struggle to pay attention.

But Jumin always pays too close attention to you.

"I remember now." You shrug.

Jumin isn't inclined to drop the matter. "I have picked you up more than once. If there's any problem with your memories, you should get it checked out. I will arrange a doctor's appointment for you."

"You're blowing things out of proportion."

The car starts to move. Driver Kim has polished his pretence of not hearing your conversation. He taps the radio screen, and a soft murmur floats through the small space.

Jumin's hand on your knee tightens into a grip, but not firm enough to hurt. "You have been forgetting a lot of things."

"Not when they're important," you say. "I won't compromise our mission, so lay off me. I can forget things. I'm human." You huff out a tired sigh. "Don't you have more things to worry about?"

His voice is constricted. "Do not presume other matters are more important than you."

"V?"

He draws his hand into his lap. "Both of you are of equal importance."

You stare out the window, yellow street lamps and glass towers sweeping past you. You're going back to a place that makes you want to scratch your skin loose. Your freedom is restricted to the apartment and wherever an RFA member accompanies you.

"I've watched the romantic drama you recommended," Jumin says after a few moments. "You're right, I did like it. It's curious how the man is always there to catch the woman when she falls. The distance and his human speed should've made it impossible."

At another time, you would have smiled at his endearing fascination and proclivity to pick apart a mystery until he understood it inside out. Now you glance at him without emotion. "Dramas operate by their own logic."

Jumin tries for a smile. "Nevertheless, it was sufficient entertainment to unwind after work. I must thank you for that."

"I'm glad it helped."

He shifts his body towards you. "How would you feel if I attempted to catch you when you fell?"

You purse your lips. "I won't fall around you."

"But if you do?"

You try to ponder over it, but it's like trying to break through rough currents that threaten to swallow you. The effort is exhausting. "You might not be fast enough," you say. "You're not armed with magical drama abilities."

"Then being there with you at all times would solve it." There's a hint of finality in Jumin's tone.

Of course.

You rest your head against the window, the glass cold against your temple. "That sounds impractical."

"It is better than watching the people I love lose themselves because they're too stubborn to ask for help."

Your lips tug up in the tiniest smirk. "Interesting. Han Jumin feels more than me. I never thought this day would come."

You glimpse at him, but he doesn't seem offended. How disappointing. You're right at the centre where his emotions are concentrated. You thought that would have included his anger.

"I would say it's concerning," Jumin says. "I know how that emptiness feels. If what you're experiencing is worse than that—"

"You'll force me to get treatment?"

His hands curl into a fist in his lap. "I'm not fond of coercion, but if you pose a danger to yourself, then I will do what I must."

You can't keep the irritation out of your voice. "Of course. Thank you for caring."

"I always care." Jumin's fingers hover near your cheek, and you think he's going to touch you, and you wait for him to—but he drops it to his side.

"And look how it ruins you."

Jumin dips his chin sharply. The shadow in the car obscures his expression, but you can make out the lines of exhaustion in the corner of his eyes. There is only so much he can put up with before it eats at him, always bracing for tragedy to befall everyone around him.

You're not supposed to be on the list of the people he wants to protect.

"Loving you doesn't ruin me. It's the best emotion I have ever felt." He runs his hand up your arm and pauses at the slope of your shoulder. "So let me care for you. Don't go. Don't go as far as V has."

You can't wrap your head around the driving force behind Jumin's obsession for your survival. You don't even care as much. It probably has something to do with how you can see right through him. He's attached to the validation you can offer him. You make him feel like a person. You're the only one who sees him as he is, now he can't let you go.

"V is your closest friend. He'll come back to you eventually."

"He won't," Jumin states flatly. "Rika is all he sees, and his range of vision has pathetically narrowed. You needn't bother with consolations. I know where my place is on his priority list."

Pressure burgeons within you like a fist thrusting into your ribcage and twisting your lungs. You hold on to the sensation, thankful to still be able to feel certain pains for Jumin. You wind your hand around his tie and press your lips somberly against his. He tastes of matured grapes and sweet memories long gone.

You have loved him until it ruined you too.

Jumin hooks his arm around your waist and pushes you against the car door, his other hand moving around the back of your head to soften the blow. His fingers trace down your ear and jaw before tilting your chin up and deepening the kiss.

His hand slides up the back of your thigh and toys with the lining of your panties. You hitch your leg up, allowing him to slide between you as he presses himself harder against you, his breathing harsh against your parted lips.

You can feel his need for you between your legs and you wish to satiate him, but it's as though your limbs and nerves are molten lead. You can burn him up with a single touch and you do it without feeling anything.

You want him, but the desire is cerebral.

Jumin pauses and pulls away when he notices your lack of fervour. He opens his mouth to apologise, but you grab his arms, feeling the lean muscles beneath the suit, and shake your head.

Not your fault.

He searches your face, then nods. This has happened before.

You don't know how you reached this point. You keep losing things that you can't afford to lose and you're tired of it. Your freedom, your fundamental need for Jumin. You don't know how to protect your senses from atrophying.

He smooths down your crumpled hair and blouse, murmuring, "I had expressed my wish not to be consoled, yet you still went against me."

"This is the only time I don't have to obey you."

Jumin stills. "I am not trying to restrict you."

"So if I ask you to stop monitoring my schedule and chaperoning me, either by yourself or someone you personally approve of, would you?"

He brushes your swollen lips with his thumb. "Can you promise me you won't get yourself killed if I decrease the security?"

"I promise." You straighten his tie to align it with the buttons and trail your fingers up his chest.

Jumin seems to consider it before shaking his head and chuckling. "You're a good liar."

You grip the lapels of his suit. "It's not up to me if the hacker decides to attack me."

"But you won't put up a fight either."

You let your hands fall and avert your gaze to the blur of passing cars behind him.

Jumin sighs. "It's only until we dissolve Mint Eye and you are safe from the threats that brought you here. Perhaps you would be happier and less inclined to throw self-preservation to the wind."

You clench your jaw and dig your nails into your thighs. Your life is getting smaller and smaller each day. There will always be another condition from him as your condition gets worse. Jumin will not stop. As long as the fight against Mint Eye goes on, you will always be under his extreme surveillance.

Jumin means well, you know it. You wouldn't have survived this long if he and Seven didn't force you to.

You carve your nails in with all your strength, clawing until they break your skin, but there's no blood. It's always harder when you mean to do it.

You don't want to be fixed all the time. Sometimes you want to shatter into pieces. Sometimes you feel safer when you're small.

"I can't breathe, Jumin," you say, desperation seeping into your voice.

He flicks his eyes down and wraps his hand around your wrists in an instant. "Stop doing that. Stop hurting yourself."

"This?" You laugh. "It's nothing more than you and Seven have been doing to me. I've always been willing to help you two with your plans, however immoral they are. I'd do them myself even without you. But I never gave you permission to track me like a prisoner."

His gaze turns hard. "You wouldn't let me if I asked."

"I'm the unhappiest I've ever been and you don't even care." You try to pull your hands away, but he won't budge. "You don't want me to be happy."

 "I deeply apologise. I never mean to cause you pain." His face contorts with guilt. "Please hold on a little longer. It will be over soon. V will provide us with an explanation, and things will return to how they were."

"You're naïve if you think it's that easy. This is not your drama with a fairytale happy ending."

"If I don't harbour hope in everyone's stead, what chance do we have in surviving?" Jumin says, and lets out a ragged breath. "We will get through this catastrophe. You can depend on me if you can't find the strength to go on. Just—stay with me. Do not leave."

You think you should cry. You can feel an emotion bubbling, blistering but never quite reaching its boiling point. It's frustrating. Breaking down under pressure is one of the most human things to do, yet the most you can muster is observational agitation.

Love changes things. He loves you and you're paying the price for it. 

You look at him with deadened eyes. "You have never made leaving possible, Jumin."

"Good," Jumin says, his voice terse. He doesn't let go of your wrists.

You sink into your seat, deep into the corner where the lights do not reach. There is a kind of loneliness that has grown into a corporeal shadow inside the cavity of you.

You yearn to make its existence known to someone.

You have no one to tell.

-

Footnotes:

I couldn't flesh these out due to fic length, but I want to get them out there anyway: 1) Reader isn't in therapy because Jumin and Seven aren't well-versed in mental health and Jumin thinks he's enough to fix her for now. She just doesn't care. 2) Jaehee is excluded from the secret subgroup because reader takes over her role in task execution and more.

I... didn't mean to write a dark Jumin or include canon plot elements. I feel like my fics lately are a "how dark can I make this" challenge. The initial idea was just Jumin being there for a lonely reader and it'd be wholesome and comforting, but it got worse through each draft. It had been satisfying to write.

I'd hoped my first fic with the big cast would be one where everyone's personalities are prominent, but apparently, I had to write it from a depressed reader's POV so everything is warped and muted instead. Maybe next time.

There's a paragraph that I reworked from my now inactive IG writing account c: I guess it's not plagiarism if you're copying yourself?

I like it when my MCs are a lil manipulative xoxo

The header concept is Jumin's obsessive surveillance, shown through the clear box tracking his eyes while the rest is blurred, and the toxic intimacy of how Jumin is the one who yearns more but they're separated by a thin yet impenetrable barrier. I was so happy that this clip fits my vision, with an Asian man at that! It's hard to find good free stock footage of Asians. And tap the GIF for better quality.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

[foulhounddeputytrash]

SIRIUS AND REGULUS BLACK HEADCANONS

•The main difference between the brothers facial wise other than the hair length is that Sirius is the innocent looking brother, doe shaped grey eyes and brink pink colored lips. While Regulus is the lustrous looking one with the siren shaped eyes and brownish pink lips.

• They both have the same Grey eyes (the whole Black family does, the ones who don't are not a Black), cheek bone, pouty lips, thick raven hair and eyelashes.

•Sirius was the 'Perfect Heir' before getting sorted into Gryffindor. His a natural in etiquette and is sociable (knows how to read the room) to everyone. They know he doesn't like the Muggleborn prejudice like Andy but the Black family never mentioned Muggles or Muggleborns often.

• Regulus was the judgemental sassy brat growing up. Though he is quiet during galas and knows not to get into much trouble. Loves traumatizing his cousins and other kids.

•As much as Sirius being oblivious to his admirers or people flirting with him he had been crushing on Remus since 13 (their 2nd year), and accepted he loves him during their 5th year.

Also his actually good at hiding his crush on Remus until 7th year that Peter is the only one who knows (3rd year). He did tell Regulus about it since 2nd year.

(I love the idea that Sirius fell first but Remus fell harder)

•Sirius knows Regulus has a crush on James the moment he started acting polite and stuttering to James in the train when all he did was jealously talk shit about his new friends. Regulus knows that Sirius knows and had a silent agreement to not talk about it. Sirius realized James started to have a crush on Regulus (and the whole bloody Hogwarts) when he openly cheered for Regulus when he caught the snitch (Ravenclaw vs Slytherin) during their 4th year (though he was the last to know in their cycle of friends).

•Sirius would always close Regulus ears or make themselves busy when their parents are fighting. When Orion died when they were 8-7 (not canon) during an 'Unspeakable' mission, Walburga lost it so Sirius had to take the paternal role to Regulus. Regulus knew Sirius was breaking under the pressure so he asked Uncle Alphard and their cousins for help.

Uncle Alphard took all the kids to Versailles to have a break (and mentally help them as much as possible).

•They both don't like being yelled at or hearing people loudly argue since it reminds them of their parents

•Walburga made sure to tell them she never intended to have them if it wasn't for grandfather who forced Orion and Walburga to have the kids after Orion died. Orion did love them when they were born but they don't remember much about it.

•12 Grimmauld place is the same size as their muggle counterparts which are London Flats. (They're actually not that big compared to their manor in Versailles and Greece (nor Cygnus and Druella's manor)). It was homey growing up but now it gives them claustrophobia.

•Sirius and Regulus love using their pretty privilege but are confused when people confess to them.

•The Black family has a tradition that they will have an Unbreakable curse to Heir's (male and female so Sirius and Bella) to not have sex until 18 because of superstition that it might be a squib if you were not a virgin. So Sirius is a virgin (I think I'm going to make a fic about this), too afraid to kiss someone because he might actually DIE. He jokes about it but his friends think his ancestors should've gone to Azkaban for that.

Did not go well since Alphard and Bellatrix became Asexual (Bella's both Asexual and Aromantic) (I wonder why).

•Regulus on the other hand had a ton of experience. He gave Sirius tips on how to kiss someone and sex toys (it started as a joke).

•Now let's talk about height. The Black family growth spurt stops at 18 which it never was a problem since their family isn't short. But Sirius and Regulus had their grandmother's height. So Sirius is 5'8"/ 172 cm and became an inch or 2 cm shorter post-Azkaban. Regulus is 5'10" / 178cm and loved teasing his older brother about it.

•When Sirius was being forced to choose between Family dignity or his beliefs Regulus was packing Sirius things and left the 'ugly' clothes and made Kreacher give them to the Potters to know what's going on. Sirius was planning to stay at Andy's but Reg knows Walburga will go there (a reason to not only attack her son but her blood traitor niece).

Regulus stayed since a part of him truly believed in the Dark Lord's cause until he learned about the Horcruxes.

[wisteria-winter]

I'm very curious about the Von Eldritch family

We can see some pictures of them in the background of Lucifer’s room, so it’s not like they don’t exist in the current series. In addition we also see pictures of them in the pilot and from what we can gather, they get along well with the Morningstar family or at least did.

From what’s known Charlie broke up with the brother and has a pretty hostile relationship with the sister. Though that’s practically all we know.

So, who are they and where did they come from?

From my knowledge they aren’t royalty, meaning they shouldn't be related to one of the seven sins. They also can’t be ordinary sinners, for 1. Lucifer wouldn’t associated with them and 2. They wouldn’t be able to have children.

Theme wise they are mostly green with a grey colour palette and seem to have hair reminiscent of octopus tendrils. Which doesn’t feel too odd as they seem to be inspired by eldritch horror, possibility Cthulhu.

Still though, how do they exist? Are they similar to the lineage of Stolas? Do they have any relation to that linage?

From what we’ve seen any hellborn in high power has some sort of role, like Stolas is supposed to read the stars and such. Plus it feels odd that Lucifer would be friends with just some random family that doesn’t have any significant role. As in, why would Lucifer want to associate with them? Or at least, associated with the father, Lucifer does have a happy picture of the two in his room, so it’s most likely a pretty close friendship. Probably pretty long too.

So, what is the role of the Von Eldritch family?

Are they just the embodiment of horror or something?

Are they in a part related to the cosmic evil that existed before hell was created?

Also, in other news, isn’t it odd that Alastor’s magic seems green?

We haven’t really seen characters with a lot of green. There is Zestial, though his green is more lime yellow, not exactly the green we are looking for. Though it is interesting that the oldest overlord has a colour pallet with green and not an excess amount of red.

In addition, I did find something fun, the fires of hell seem to be mostly green and do you know what burns green? Copper.

And do you know what copper represents? From the Wikipedia page of Copper: “In alchemy the symbol for copper was also the symbol for the goddess and planet Venus.”

And the fun fact of Venus is that it’s sometimes referred to as the “morning star”

I know it most likely doesn’t mean anything, but I thought it fun. Kinda like the fires of hell are representative of the Morningstar family. Like normal(red) flames don’t seem to hurt, at least it doesn’t hurt hellborns, but a flame infused with the power of the morning star is sure to leave a scar.

Oh! And as an ending note, the mothers seem to have a very similar hair style, maybe they also get along well?

[bunglegaydogs]

skk dynamics!

I just want to talk about Soukoku so that is precisely what I'm going to do ^^

As per, this post has no specific or planned direction, I'm just gonna see where it takes me lol.

It genuinely irks me to see the rampant mischaracterisation within the fandom pertaining to not only just Soukoku, but several other characters as well. Ranpo, Akutagawa, Kunikida, etc. It might just be my dumb little screaming brain being scared of something that's not supposed to be in my head, or hell, something that's in the BACK of my mind, and I know that makes no sense but it does to me xoxo

I just really treasure the dynamic between Dazai and Chuuya and I get frightened that when I think somebody is mischaracterising them, I'm the only one that thinks that and that I'm just perceiving them wrong. Which genuinely is the one thing I never wish to do; when I write fics, my number one goal is to make the characters as true to life as possible. I try my damndest to do justice to their characters, and based off of the lovely people that read it and comment, I'm doing something right, surprisingly.

The characterisation of Dazai and Chuuya specifically is something so important to me because I relate to the both of them the most out of any of my interests. And I have a LOT of interests.

I don't know why or how, but they came to be my absolute favourite characters over all other fandoms and shows and games and films I enjoyed. (I'm excluding the Marauders fandom here, because I also love Remus and Sirius exactly like this). I piss myself off with it sometimes, because I accidentally base all of my creative outlets off of Soukoku, and lo and behold, I have about 30 unfinished ideas/fics after one night of ruminating over these motherfuckers.

Anyways. Like I said, this post has no point, it's just my incoherent, incessant rambling that if I don't write down, will slowly eat away at me until I die ^^

So, I guess, without further ado, I'm just gonna get going?

LMAO

Anyways,

Soukoku's dynamic has always been interesting. We were introduced to them first (as a pair) as enemies; ex-partners, rivals, loathing each other. But, when we slowly got to see more of their relationship, more of their past, more of their dynamic, quite a lot of us slowly came to realise; oh shit. There's more to them here.

The two of these together aren't just black-and-white characters. Dazai is not inherently good just because he works for the ADA. Chuuya is not inherently bad just because he works for the PM. They are morally grey characters. They've killed people, tortured people, stolen, beaten, attacked, hurt, all that good stuff that comes with being in the Mafia (nevermind fucking Mafia executives). Something that a lot of people seem to forget is where to draw the line between these two organisations; if the ADA is harbouring two fugitives that are ex-mafia, one of them being an executive, another fugitive that terrorised the streets of Japan as a man-eating tiger, and is run by an ex-assassin who was close with the current leader of the Port Mafia, who's to say that they're the good guys? Who is the one to define the evil and the light?

Nobody.

There are no sides.

The Port Mafia aren't the bad guys, and the Agency aren't the good guys. They're both doing their morally grey jobs with their morally grey cast of characters.

Yes, on a base level, the ADA are supposed to be the good guys, whereas the Mafia are the bad. It's a narrow-minded way of thinking and looking at the series, but on a surface level, yes, that seems to be the case.

However, we have layers to this. We know how morally grey these characters are, good or bad. Take Tanizaki, for example, and his way of going about it when Naomi is threatened. He knows he's morally grey. He knows he's not one of the good guys. None of them are! They save people, and that makes them good. But it doesn't make them the good guys. I'm not calling them bad people, of course not. I'm just saying, in the wise words of a post I once read months back, 'Maturing is realising that neither the Port Mafia or the ADA are the good or bad guys'. Something along those lines.

ANYWAYS, I've written this much already and still haven't spoken about SKK.

My point here was their good apple/bad apple dynamic. Dazai is from the same place Chuuya is at, the Mafia. So, by calling Dazai a 'bad guy' you're indirectly also calling Chuuya a bad guy. You're calling Hirotsu a bad guy. You're calling Akutagawa a bad guy. You're calling Higuchi a bad guy. You're calling all of these Mafia members the bad guys; when that's not strictly true. Morally grey characters, yet not monsters. Not bloodthirsty, demonic, evil motherfuckers. They're in the Mafia; not a good start, of course. But again, this does not make them bad people. Actions don't define the person you make yourself out to be, if that makes any sense. Just because a bad person did one good thing one time does not necessarily make them a good person. But if they strive to become a better one by constantly doing good and making active efforts to change their ways, then they're well on their way to earning that title, or coming close to it. Just because someone good did a bad thing one time does not automatically make them a bad person. They're not awful for making one bad choice, depending on the severity and their actions after the choice. Because it can go both ways; strive to be a better person, or fall to be a bad one.

ANYWAYS.

SOUKOKU.

I LOVE SOUKOKU.

So, I'm actually going to talk about them instead of fucking RABITTING ON FOR HOWEVER LONG.

Anyways.

Soukoku is special to me. I relate to the both of them the most. I recognise the flaws in each of them, and I recognise the good. I recognise the changes they're willing to put themselves through for the sake of the greater good, and I recognise the struggles they've been through to get there. I see myself in them, and so I can't help but latch onto them and want to keep them for myself. My subconscious wants to protect them and make them happy and becomes unhealthily attached to these fictional characters.

Anyways.

Soukoku dynamics. Right.

One of my favourite dynamics about Soukoku is the childlike behaviour they exhibit with one another. Even after seven years and they still bicker like they did at 15. I've said it a thousand times before and I'll fucking say it again; they let each other be the children that they never got to be. They let loose with one another. They unwind. They relax. They recognise their similarities (much to Chuuya's chagrin and unwavering denial) and each other's differences. Where there is hate, there is love and trust. It's buried deep. But it's there. The two of them have their walls put high up. They guard themselves well. They keep their shit inside. They let not another soul see what goes on in their hearts. So, with their crying children stuck inside of them and locked down, they let them out around each other. By simply being with each other at any given moment, they're healing their inner children, and allowing them to breathe.

Each moment with Soukoku is so delicate. It feels intrusive to watch their intimate scenes. It feels like such a beautiful moment, so precious to watch and so delicate to touch. The intimate scenes with the two of these are either emotionally charged, blazing, action-packed and full of chaos, or quiet and serene. Tranquil. It's never really neutral ground for them. It's either chaos or serenity, just a calm moment between the two of them, away from the rest of the world and taking (unknowing) comfort in each other's presence.

It's the small smiles from Dazai when Chuuya isn't looking. It's the words and actions with hidden meanings exchanged between them. It's the concern when one of them gets hurt, or is stuck in an unprecedented situation. It's the unfaltering trust and loyalty between each other that pushes them forward, even if it kills them, or seems fruitless. It's the determination that sits in the both of them to protect those that they care about, and put the world above all else for just a moment.

Small, knowing glances. Inside jokes. Petulant, playful bickering. Concerned thoughts. Constant thoughts.

I find it hard to believe that nobody else finds Dazai and Chuuya suspicious; they're hardly discreet about how much they think about each other. Example number one:

Chuuya is drunk with Hirotsu and Kajii. On a whim, he decides to go on a rant about Dazai. Hirotsu and Kajii are apparently sick of it; he does this a lot. He decides, impulsively, to ring Dazai's phone. Dazai picks up the fucking phone. Hirotsu answers, Dazai's like 'Oh, hey, yeah this is my old phone.' Blatantly lies to the motherfucker, because Dazai, honey, you're at home reading; what have you got your old phone from seven years ago next to you, working, and on for? Chuuya wants to speak with him. Gets angry when he can't talk to him to shout at him and complain. Keeps trying to call him back in anger.

Now, if I do say so myself, that's pretty suspicious of them.

Example two:

Dazai in fucking general. He does not shut the fuck up about Chuuya. He tells everyone he meets about how much he spends thinking about Chuuya (everyone except the Agency ahem). He's fucking gay.

That also brings me on to another point. Dazai rarely speaks about Chuuya with the ADA; I'm not too sure I've ever seen him say anything about him to them, except in Wan and the like. (I'm dumb tho tbf). However, upon Yosano figuring out Chuuya's identity, his first reaction is "Goddamn it, Dazai told them". Not that he's a widely known gravity manipulator and its not fucking hard to figure it out, plus the fact that he's a Mafia executive, PLUS the fact that they're a detective Agency? His first impulse is to blame Dazai lmao. Anyways.

You can ignore the first half of that paragraph I was just chatting mad wham.

Anyways.

I just enjoy how peaceful and serene the intimate moments between Soukoku can be. Even the world around them is falling apart, it still somehow feels so beautiful, real, raw, and personal. When Dazai is watching Chuuya fight in storm bringer, it feels so quiet. All hell is breaking loose, yet Dazai is so breathtaken by Chuuya that we feel as if we're interrupting. I don't know why but all I picture upon imagining that scene is a very quiet scene, just for a few seconds, of no music or anything, and white. Just the colour white in as many places as possible. A softness to the screen. I don't know. It just feels like that to me and I can't explain it.

Soukoku's dynamics are so important, because when people mischaracterise both Dazai and Chuuya and then smush that together it creates an abomination of what was supposed to be beautiful and ruins the relationship they really have, muddying their name. Their relationship is special. It's so much more than hate.

Hate is also a crucial part of their relationship, however. And a lot of us Soukoku shippers tend to forget that. We're so blinded by how much we want them to admire and adore each other that we forget how much they do despise one another. And I've mentioned this before in another post.

Their hate is real. It's not a ruse, it's the real deal. They genuinely do hate one another; but that hate is filled with so much more than downright disgust. That hate is filled with the trust of their bond, seven years of partnership, love, and so many unspoken things between the two of them.

Chuuya hates Dazai because he hates himself. He refuses to let himself see the similarities between him and Dazai, because he could never be like him. Chuuya often struggles with his identity and who he is and just how human he is. He didn't know until he was 16 whether he was a real human or not. And so, upon meeting this other human at 15 who craves death and wants to just throw away this human life that he's been given? That's a hard no for Chuuya. He resents Dazai for being so willing to give up his life so carelessly, so easily. He'd do anything at that point to realise just how human he was, to prove his humanity to others and to show his compassion and human qualities. And he stumbles across this stone-cold, suicidal kid who wants to let go of all of that, sees no point in trying to even be human, and who is lacking empathy for other human lives. Chuuya disgusts and loathes that. So, he wants nothing to do with him. Does not want to be attached to him in any way shape or form. Refuses to acknowledge their similarities. So, when he's being tortured, and the first thing he hallucinates is Dazai? It preys on his insecurities and deepest fears. He fears that he's not at all a human, and he fears that he is like Dazai, an unfeeling, indifferent, seemingly heartless boy who wishes to give up on the world, who wishes he was never born, who wishes nothing more than to be granted that sweet release of death.

I can't articulate very well, so for that I do apologise! But yeah, this has always been an important scene for me. In his moment of weakness, Chuuya hallucinated the person that he wanted to see the least, first. He hallucinated Dazai before his freshly dead friends, etc. And claims that, whilst he's being tortured, after Verlaine has killed the people closest to him, that he hates him the most out of anyone in the world. A lot of people said that this was an overreaction; respectfully, shut the fuck up ^^ My boy was being tortured, give him some leeway, yeah?

Anyway.

It just goes to show how deep those roots of self-hatred go within Chuuya; it seems him and Dazai have something more in common than originally thought.

Now, I don't actually have a complete grasp on the reason why Dazai hates Chuuya so much. Because, he doesn't hate him as much as Chuuya hates him, or as much as he makes it out to be. Dazai is an eccentric bastard, dramatising things for the sake of stirring up trouble. He overexaggerates for a variety of reasons, one of those being to conceal any emotion he IS feeling. He makes a big song and dance out of the little things to try and forget about the big things. To not think. Dazai is not numb by nature. He's numb by conditioning. He has conditioned himself to feel nothing, to be cold and logical and rational. Mori, of course, only exemplified these traits, making him colder and more calculated than ever/before. So, my blind guess is that he holds a sort of resentment to Chuuya for being able to be more normal than he is, for wanting to live and not seeing the world as a boring, pointless place. But, he also wants Chuuya to thrive as a human, to be able to live his life knowing and being sure of his humanity. And, when it's only him and Verlaine, he grows quite... emotional (trust me, it's not a lot but that's the only word I can think of) when talking about his humanity. That, Chuuya has to be a human. Because how could he hate someone so much? He has to be a human, because if he wasn't he would like Dazai more.

I think Dazais "issue" (I CAN'T THINK OF WORDS RIGHT NOW LMAO) is that he just wants Chuuya to like him. Maybe he wants a friend. Maybe there's something else to it. But, Dazai has always had strong... feelings, towards Chuuya. "Jokingly" telling him he loves him. Getting awfully close when he doesn't need to, and never does with anyone else. Yeah, you're not fooling anybody hun. Makes many romantic comments that could be passed off as something else entirely about him. Showing active concern for him. Caring for him. Thinking about him. He shows a lot more attention to Chuuya than he gets in return; by that I mean speaks about it more. Is a lot more verbal than Chuuya is.

GAHHHH sorry sorry I just have too much to say and don't know when to SHUT THE FUCK UP but I have SO MUCH more to say, but I'm going to be going off and writing my shitty little fics that should've been written yonks ago <3

have a lovely day/night! ^^

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈. crossover

feat. Kayden x Fem!Dazai!Reader | wc. 1.9k

sum. Kayden's meeting with a certain suicidal maniac took 10 years of his life

note. this is shorter because i still yet to know about duke's background, if you still haven't been updated to the webtoon then you definitely should, there's a lot plot twists waiting for you y'all.

main m.list eleceed m.list

PART 1 < PART 2

as FRIENDS (frenemies?)

There was once a saying in the Port Mafia that made everyone tremble in fear that is equivalent of the Awakeners hearing Kayden's name

'The greatest misfortune of being Dazai's enemy is the fact you are her enemy.'

Whether Kayden is aware of who you really are or not, it was wise of him to keep you on your good side.

But is that really the case? Were you still the same person you were back in the Port Mafia? Do people still need to heed the warnings about you?

You had asked Kartein about it once during your unexpected stay in Jiwoo's abode. He was silent for a few minutes and you thought he also doesn't have the answer you were looking for.

Actually, it didn't need to be a wise answer, you only need his opinion and outlook regarding to your change. Kartein knows you way back in the PM, not on a personal level but enough to trust his opinions on you.

"A stranger won't be able to tell the difference. If I'm being honest, I can't also tell what change are you referring to."

You theatrically gasped, "After all we've been through, you're still treating me as a stranger? How could you, Kartein!"

Admittedly, you weren't expecting much out of his answer. Both of you haven't been in contact in years, it'll be difficult for him to pin point what actually changed to you.

You were still the same suicidal maniac, that's a definite answer.

Thinking back to it, if you could only talk to Odasaku, would he have a different answer?

For the first time in your life as a detective at ADA, you were in deep thought. Gone with the rambunctious proclamations of your sudden undying love then proceeding to find an equipment for your demise.

"Dazai-san is unusually quiet. . . I don't like it." A mop of grey hair popped its head on the doorway of your office, "Should I ask Ranpo-san if he knows what's going on?" He pondered, particularly no one but to himself.

"Maskhhhh mweee whatm?"

"If there's something wrong with Dazai-san that we should be—" He abruptly paused and glanced behind him to see an over bloated mouth munching, "ACKK! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Eh? Aren't you a weretiger who's supposed to have heightened senses?" The said guy continued to eat, unfazed.

"I'm still partially human, Ranpo-san." He pouted, hurt, before turning back to the door in which Dazai is leaning over with an enigmatic smile.

"My, my, Atsushi-kun. Were you spying on me?"

Deep hues of red painted his cheeks as he tries his best to come up with an excuse, "It wasn't anything like that!"

On his behalf, Ranpo spoke, "The President has a mission for you."

Your eyebrows perched, "Oh? I wish it has something to do with—"

"No suicide is required to accomplish this mission." The greatest detective just knows how to deflate your mood, truly worthy of his title at ADA. While you are now deflated from hearing this.

"This might get difficult. Apparently, one of the Top 10 Awakeners is planning an ambush in the World Academy."

You snorted, "And you're expecting me to diffuse the situation?" Atsushi was more confused than comprehensive.

"Awakeners? I thought Ability users don't meddle in with their business?"

Awakeners and Ability users are basically the epitome of the phrase 'two sides of a coin' and no one can be categorized as a hero nor a villain.

"Correct, however, this is a special request from someone with strong connection on both parties." Ranpo supplied as he keeps chowing down his sweets.

"Like who?"

"You read my mind, Atsushi-kun." You made your way out of your office, not that you were doing something productive anyway.

"Ranpo-san, why did the President accept such request?"

"Who knows what thoughts running in his head, but I do know he wouldn't have done it without any benefits."

". . .But why would he send Dazai-san?"

"Why wouldn't he? She may be a nuthead, but she's one of our best."

Your investigation led you back in South Korea, more precisely, in the Academy of Awakeners where the retired strongest in Korea resides as a principal.

Jiyoung and Inhyuk were the first ones who got informed of your arrival and immediately greeted you at the airport.

And Jiwoo certainly wasn't far behind the news as he begged Kayden to give him an off day to see you.

Even Subin went with Jiyoung to see you. Kartein is only excited to brag about his new attained skill of turning into a cat. Wooin, ever the sweetest big boi, bought extra food to treat you for your return. Now that you're back, Jisuk and Kayden's sixth senses of protecting their precious cinnamon roll are on high alert.

Their mixed reactions caused mayhem on the way to Jiwoo's home, while the lad is certainly delighted to have you back, others have different opinions.

You had forgotten why you were actually in Korea and hang out with them for the rest of the day. It's an oddity how easily you lose yourself to the fun whenever you're with them, especially to Jiwoo who's easy to have fun with.

"I'm so glad you came back! You never got to say farewell to us when you left last time." The blonde boy pouted.

Wooin wordlessly nodded at the back as the your group walk to Jiwoo's house to drop the shopping bags they bought, "You just disappeared out of nowhere then came back without a notice."

"Though I don't think it's great timing since we're going to attend in Awakened Academy next week, we won't be spending time with you as much as we are now." Subin said.

You halted your steps, ". . .Right."

The mission. Dang it!

Jisuk snorts, "I'd be glad if she won't waste our time by tomorrow."

That earned him a kick from the cryo user.

Fortunately for you, Jiyoung is affiliated with the principal and took charge to make it easy for you. Meeting with the retired Awakener was. . . anticlimactic to say the least.

It doesn't seem like he's involved in any shady business, and he does his job to protect young Awakeners diligently.

Oddly enough, he informed you about the upcoming visit of the World Awakened Academy students.

You went home to Jiwoo's with troubled thoughts. He let you stay in his house if you don't have anywhere else to stay and you're broke so you really have no choice ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Kayden seemed to pick up your unusual furrowed eyebrows and had doubts to question you or just let you be. He finds it highly suspicious you went back to Korea just to have fun with his apprentice. You must have some business going on.

But his pride won't let him inquire what's boggling your mind, he simply watches you struggle to come up with a solution to your own problem. You're a grown woman anyway.

By the time Jiwoo and his friends are gearing up for their return in the Academy, you disappeared, again. Unlike last time, they were more concerned about your whereabouts as you have left a note that says "I'll be back with a surprise.''

Either your dead body hanging is on the way to surprise them or you got murdered.

That's all the options Kayden could think of, and no, he doesn't take constructive criticism.

"A new instructor? Who is it?" Jiwoo overheard from the students there was a new teacher who taught them. . . questionable things.

Thinking his friends might know who it is, he asked them, but it seems as though they're clueless as who it is.

"Moshi Moshi!" Jisuk fell over his chair and nearly threw the culprit over the window, "WHO THE HEL— Huh?! It's you again?! What are you doing here?"

In contrary to his reaction, Jiwoo welcomed you with open arms, "Y/N, I'm so glad you're here!"

You chuckled at this and patted his head, "Are you now? Don't worry, you won't get rid of me that soon."

"Why's that?" Subin looked particularly surprised but refrained herself from embracing you out of relief that you survived another day with your suicide tendencies.

You grinned like a chesire cat, "I'll be your mentor from now on!"

©OTAKUWORKS | 2023

[starjumpingpanda]

I've started this not so accurate timeline of what we have coming up on The Rookie.

All dates are approximate - feel free to come at me with more exact information

September 10th Eric's IG vid - Bradford & Thorsen in car (heatwave, hence the shorts 😆) clothing seems to match the 5x07 promo

September 8th - 5x08 is called "The Collar" as Robert Bella's IG post

September 10th - Melissa's IG vid with Eric mentions Lucy dealing with a man with a "bomb strapped around his neck" (in a later BTS vid from set we see Tim & Lucy and stunt doubles on location)

30th September (ish) - Melissa's IG vid possibly Lucy in a black flower top and perhaps "waiting for Eric" can be heard in the background.

October 1st (ish) - Melissa & Eric on set doing S5 promo work. Lucy in a pink tee (does it say "HAPPY :)" on it?) & Tim in grey henley (looks the same as the 5x07 one?)

October 1st - Eric reading car plate 😂 on location. Big black armored police car behind. Source = Melissa's twitter

&

October 5th - The 3 musketeers (source Melissa's IG) and "Bradford & Thorson" with some real cops photo/s (source Eric's IG) on location. Same car and street as October 1st.

October 2nd - Lucy in black top and jeans with her RING on her right hand. And Chris. What episode are we up to here? 🤷‍♀️ (Source = Melissa's IG)

October 12th - Melissa's "when you hear a sneak peek of what's to come #chenford" tweet 🤪

&

October 29th - Melissa's "May or may not have shot content related to this tweet yesterday" (see October 12th) What ep would this be? 5x11? 5x12? 🤷‍♀️

October 13th - Robert Bella says they are shooting the last scene of 5x10 and waiting for the sun to set on location & Eric playing pranks on set 🤣

October 14th - Melissa's IG photo of her getting makeup done at what could be behind the railings of a sports/school baseball location & possibly?? a BTS baseball pic??? (I've got no clue where that baseball photo came from. Anyone?)

October 15th (ish) Melissa's IG vid - Lucy in white tee and denim jacket/shirt going to location.

October 25th/26th - Melissa's IG, Lucy all banged up & Thorsen covered in debris with bruises and cuts. What has happened here? And where is Tim in all of this? 🤔

I'm putting these two sets of photos in one collage below, coz Tumblr is dumb and has a 10 pic limit :/ EDIT: annnnd just including Melissa looking gorgeous even though she's sick...

October 28th - just a reminder that Melissa's "content related to this tweet" with "this tweet" being the 😲 of what's to come for Chenford 👆 would sit here date wise.

October 29th - As per Melissa's IG and a tweet saying she's "sick and bed ridden." Wonder how this fits in filming/scene wise? Or if they'll just work around it?

That's me done. I've probably missed stuff 🙈 and got dates wrong 🙈🙈 but it puts some of the BTS and SM in to some kind of order. Hopefully 🤞

[tare-anime]

Finally I finished reading Eyes Only the english translations.

The highlight of this book for me? Endo and Lin's commentary 🤣🤣🤣👏👏

It is very interesting to see that I get the impression that out of all Forgers, Endo loves Yor the most (but it's highly probable that I'm biassed. Duh!!)

I mean, we know that Endo loves strong female - fighting heroines. Especially if we look at Endo's previous works. Like the two serialization: Tista and Gekka Bijjin. Both has strong female heroines as the leader. And then, his one shots also featured female leads. Perhaps only his latest one shots: Ishi ni Usubeni (the one with Medusa kid which later become Anya's prototype) and I spy (the prototype of spy x family) that featured male character as leads.

No wonder Endo can creates so many amazing female characters in spy x family. (Not that the sxf male characters are bad. Far from it!)

But it warm my heart when Endo shows that Yor was the longest he took in creating the character design. (And I also notice that Endo loves to draw Yor in so many cute outfits and accessories 🥰 and also seems to get hurt the most for my whumpy needing souls delightment #ahem)

At the same time, the badass yet cute and naive Yor is the one character that he got trouble the most to develop!

I still remember back then, when we were still at chapter 38-39 ish, Endo did have more breaks than usual, chapters that is focuses on side characters like Damian, Bond, Yuri, Sylvia (short mission), Frankie, all that make the small fandom fans 'restless' for the "too many fillers chapters"

And then there was a tweet of him telling the fans to be patient, because he was planning something.

And then, BAM!! Chp. 43 dropped. A Franky and Yor chapter, that end with Yor getting a call from Shopkeeper. Yes, the chapter we just got the anime episode (ep. 29!)

The small fandom at that time was going ferall over "Garden" name drop. And keep chanting "Yor arc Yor arc Yor arc Yor arc!!"

And then BAM!!! We got one of the best arc ever: Cruise Arc.

With that one gorgeous Yor ilustration that make the small fandom around the world decided 4-6th April to become Yor's day. On the spot.

It's one amazing experiences, ngl.

So if one asked me whether Yor has been pushed to the back, I dare say no.

It's just writing an interesting assassins plot is difficult.

Especially in a story where everything is grey.

WISE is described as the "good" guy who tries in all their might to stop the war. (But are they really? Why are they snooping around inside other country? And why are they badmouthing Ostania?)

SSS is described as the "bad" guy cause they oppressed their own people and manipulate young energetic talent as Yuri to serve them. (But what if it is needed to keep 'peace' from the rebels which of course can be found everywhere in a freshly stopped war country?)

A good story can work with two opposing sides going head to head.

But then there's Garden. Where are their position? A story about three way "war" can be difficult to tell, overly complicated, and too much. On one side, Garden can't be the "good" side because they murder people. But they can't be "bad" either if the people they murder are the bad guys. However who to tell which one is good which one is not?

And most important, how to make Yor as a protagonist that is not a villain.

That's hard.

So, judging from the past experiences (when Endo took more breaks than usual), plus this amazing detail analysis by @itsmaferart, I dare say Endo is cooking another Yor or Garden centric arc, after the Eden and SSS vs WISE.

I have high hope for this. 😁😁😁😁

So we shall wait and see.....

Tldr; I think Endo loves Yor. He is preparing for something awesome for her. and I'm not complaining. 🤣🤣🤣🤣

[charlie-rulerofhell]

Chris talking about his synaesthesia and seeing the colour of music

a snippet of an interview Chris did with a German ESC channel about a month ago, translated from German into English (because I thought it was pretty fascinating what Chris had to say, and hoped you all would enjoy reading about it as well)

Benny: Chris, you are a synaesthete. What does Blood and Glitter look like to you? And is there a Eurovision song that looks particularly noticable?

Chris: So, you know … Synaesthesia is the connection of senses that normally do not belong together, right? Someone who can taste colours, for example. So they are seeing a colour and are having a certain taste in their mouth. In my case it's the ear that is connected to the eye, and it only works in this direction. So when I'm hearing a certain note, I see a specific colour.

You can picture it like an instagram filter, when everything gets colourised in a certain way, and all contours seem to be glowing in that colour. A little bit like a real-time light show. I'm pretty good at repressing it, though, and it also doesn't happen when I'm tired and the brain is trying to save resources. But when I allow it to happen then I'm seeing this aura. It has nothing to do with how a song feels to me, though, so the colour is not determined by the feeling that I have. It's really just a physical thing. Sounds are wave lengths. So you have twelve semitones, and then everything repeats itself, twice as high, twice as deep, and so on. So these wave lengths are all connected to a certain colour. C, for example, always has a blue shade to me, and when it goes deeper, to an A, it becomes purple. So, Blood and Glitter is written in A minor, and especially with the guitar riff in the beginning, everything gets stained in a purple tone. So it's not blood and gold at all, if we would consider gold to be a proper colour.

Now the thing is, it's important to me that our lightshow matches the colours that I'm seeing, and I can work quite well with red and purple. If it's too complementary, like red and green for example, that doesn't work well for me. Or if a song goes too far into the direction of green, then I'm having trouble handling it, unless the song symbolises a certain inner conflict, because I simply don't like green as a light colour. Even though I quite like it as the colour of the forest, where it is more muted.

It's getting pretty nerdy here, as you may notice. So the thing is that the clearer the information is, the more distinct will be the colour that I'm seeing. When I'm hearing simply a pure sinusoidal tone, then the colour is very clear. When more harmonies come together, everything will get muddier. Like when you mix all colours together and it becomes brown – or white when you're mixing light. That's also one of the reasons why I rarely like jazz when it becomes too atonal. Because with all those different sevenths and ninths in jazz chords you have a lot of friction, and then it just becomes very muddy and cold colour-wise, like there's no clear colour information anymore, and it's all just grey. So I cannot really feel jazz emotionally. Or when you have a song with a lot of harmonies and transpositions, then it can also change during one song.

But with the other Eurovision songs I haven't really paid any attention to their colours yet, because it is something that is so normal to me that I'm not analysing it really. I won't be thinking: Oh, it's getting blue now! It's just as normal to me as when you open your mouth and there is sound coming out of it, I also wouldn't be paying any attention to that.

Peter: What about classical music?

Chris: Well, when you're talking about the proper classical period here – also including the Romantic, the neoclassical or the baroque era, so everything that is harmoniously precise, and which works diatonically in major and minor keys – here it is quite similar to pop music, it's very comprehensible. When it gets too modern however, like the Schoenberg school, twelve-tone technique, all that, or the whole expressionism, then it's just like jazz with classical instruments, so that also doesn't work for me. Because then the colours are just jarring, you know? It's not only weird for the ear, it's also hurting the eye. But I do love classical music. I listen to a lot of classical music, I love movie scores, the cello was my first instrument, and I'm still playing it. I have basically made classical music before I even knew that something like pop music existed.

Benny: What a fascinating topic, really! We could probably fill a whole show with that if we wanted. Thank you for the answer.

Chris: Oh, sorry, if I may nerd around some more, just one thing. When I'm listening to a certain symphony or whatever, and I feel like the colour-mood does not match what I'm hearing, then I have this here in the whole house [takes a remote control] … all the light bulbs are connected with this Philips hue system, so whatever lamp I need to change, I can adjust it, until I feel like this matches the music that I'm currently listening to better.

Benny: So today the mood goes more into the direction of pink?

Chris: For me it's red, maybe the screen messes it up. But that was really just because of Blood and Glitter, that made me go: Let's do a red light show today.

[luveline]

would you please do sirius and reader with chronic pain? thank u so much lovely 💖💖

I dont have chronic pain so if there is anything inaccurate or inauthentic please let me know! thank you for your request <3

You know as soon as you wake up that today is not going to be a good day, pain wise. You’re determined anyhow, because Sirius Black has asked you out on a date. Sirius Black. A date. 

You do the things that you can. You shower and feel white hot, dizzy enough to sit on the toilet seat for a long ten minutes afterwards with your head in your hands. You get dressed. You do your hair. You blink away tears, an inescapable panging reverberating through your whole body. Pain and frustration; you’re hurting and you want it to stop, want to go on a simple date with a nice boy without this constant pain.

You laugh to yourself at the thought. A cool boy, you amend your thoughts. 

You’re not dressed well, for the pain or the weather. Still, hours later outside The Charm, Sirius says, “You look killer.”

It’s a pretty pub with dark wooden beams and a huge TV in the corner. From your window seat in a padded booth you can see a gorgeous garden and a small play area with two young kids running and climbing all over. I miss being able to do that, you think. 

Sirius is watching you when you turn back. 

“What?” you ask, smiling. 

He doesn’t smile so much as his eyes close a fraction, heavy black lashes edging his blue, almost grey irises. “Nothing.”

You’re stopped from questioning him further when the waitress comes to take your order. Sirius asks for a lemonade. You don’t expect it of him. 

“It’s quiet in here,” he says. 

You’re distracted by pain. 

“But well decorated,” he adds. 

You smile and rush to answer, afraid of seeming stiff. “The telly is distracting me.” Mostly a lie.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, arm moving behind him as he leans back to take in the rather large TV screen. He reads the headline. “Small group of ducks removed from family swimming pool. Lucky ducks.”

He turns back to you. You look down at your hands and try to breathe in a way that doesn’t sound so pained. It is possibly one of the worst times to have a bad flare up. You really, really like Sirius, and you think he likes you when you’re not so quiet and evasive, eyes pointed at your trembling fingers. You press them flat to the table and wince. 

Sirius edges forwards over the table. "Can I ask you something?" 

You blink and nod and he nods in return, fingers stretching towards you as he leans in. He speaks quietly. "Are you feeling okay?" 

"I-" you clear your throat. "I'm fine." 

"You don't look very well," he says, "I know you're not supposed to say that to girls when you fancy them, but you're shaking." 

You stammer through an explanation. "I'm sorry, I just- I. You know about my… condition," you say. 

He nods patiently. 

"It's bad today, that's all." 

"You're hurting?" he asks. 

"A bit." 

Understatement of the year. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, not knowing what to expect. The waitress saves you from saying anything else, from Sirius' answer, putting your drinks down in front of you confidently. 

"Awesome. Uh, could I ask a favour?" Sirius asks the waitress. She smiles as he powers on. "Could we get the food to go? If it's not too much trouble." 

Your heart breaks a little bit in your chest, a feeling like cracking over your skin. It must show on your face how affected you are because Sirius, in a way you've never seen, flinches. 

"I'm happy you're here," he says, something hot in his voice, a roughness, "but I-" He scrubs a hand through his hair and tries again. "Not to be forward, but would you let me look after you?" 

You gawp. Sirius grimaces. 

"I mean. We can go home. Sit somewhere that isn't these back aching chairs, get you a proper cup of tea. You don't look like you should be out of bed, darling." 

You nibble the corner of your bottom lip, conflicted. 

"Sirius, I can look after myself. I can. I do it everyday." 

He looks properly chastised. "Right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't assume." 

"Maybe not," you say, smiling, "but. If you want to look after me," your voice dips to a murmur, "that's okay with me. I'm really not feeling very well." 

"Right," he says. He grins like you've pulled one over on him and he loves it. 

The food comes and Sirius ushers you with a heart searing amount of care into his car, the takeaway boxes hot on your lap. You go back to your place because that's where all your things are, and you're glad for it when not long after you're in your comfiest clothing and Sirius has borrowed a mismatched pair of pajamas. He looks very cute in lilac plaid bottoms. You eat dinner on the sofa and give up halfway through. Sirius gives up with you without any complaints, traipsing after you into your kitchen. 

He watches you fill your hot water bottle with a startling intensity. 

"What?" you ask, laughing under your breath. "Why're you watching me? Go sit back down." 

"I wanna know how to do it." 

"The hot water bottle?" 

"Yeah. When you need it hot again, I'll know." 

You bite back a smile and show him. You turn from him to take a handful of painkillers and he's frowning when you turn back around. 

"Is it awful?" he asks. He instantly looks apologetic but doesn't take back the question. 

"It's bad. But I have to live with it, so…" 

You try your best to sound unaffected. Sometimes, when you have to deal with it everyday, people expect you to get used to it. But it's not something you can get used to. You think you're used to the pain and then realise how horrified you are with everything else - the days off, the life you can't lead, the permanent nature of it. You come to terms with that and suddenly the pain is flaring up and unimaginable, and you think - how am I going to do this forever? 

Sirius stops leaning on the counter to open his arms. 

You step into them, his affection burning through an invisible layer, filling you with a comforting relief. 

"Poor girl," he says, and he doesn't sound condescending. 

"It's really okay," you say quietly. 

He rubs your back, long and slow, pulling your shirt up a silver with every sweep of his hand. You've hugged him before, though not like this. He smells like cedar. 

"Sorry about our date," you murmur, feeling slightly sorry for him and very sorry for yourself. 

"Hey, don't be. I only wanted to spend time with you. I don't care if that's here or at some dingy pub." 

"It wasn't dingy," you murmur. 

He laughs and it vibrates through his chest and into yours, his hands careful but adoring where they caress you. "Wasn't the point." 

You stall, arms tight around his back. You could get used to this, this closeness, this feeling. 

"Don't be sorry," he says, barely discernible, the ghost of his lips against your temple and his breath hot on your skin. "I just wanted to see you." 

There, from under the pain – excitement. Dizzy pleasure. Knowing that you stand at the beginning of love. 

The hug ends before you really want it to and Sirius nudges you with his hip until you're back on the sofa. He straightens the blanket over your legs and slouches beside you, his side pressed to your side and your hand pulled into his lap. He toys with your fingers. 

You lean your head against his shoulder, chest rising and falling, staggered breaths. 

His hand moves to the hot water bottle, at first feeling for warmth. He leaves it there and you're unsure whether it's forgetful or on purpose. Either way, it's nice. 

"Anything I can do, sweet thing?" he whispers. 

You sigh, almost happy, almost content. "No, this is good." 

When you shudder and twinge and your breathing hikes he puts a tentative arm behind your neck and talks quietly to distract you. A steady constant, the dulcet tone of his voice, like a tether through the fog. 

[ilaosi]

weird question, but since ur a zombie I need some help!

okay, so I'm writing about zombies and such and the actual physical symptoms of zombism are like vague. super vague.

I was wondering what your experience was?

idk wikipedia and all them are uselessssss, and I thought asking a zombie would just be easier than going and looking for 16th century whatevers.

so, if you don't mind what was it like? what sorts of symptoms did you have?

anyway thank you for reading your awesome!!!

omg hi im a bit late but this ask makes me so happy i love talking abt this stuff !!! :D i'd like to preface by saying i experience my kintypes in a way that sounds a lot like a past life but i don't consider that to be the case, i believe my memories are from some version of me in other universes/realities.

soo my response might not be the most helpful because i don't think i experience zombism in the way most ppl think of it? i wasn't infected or anything, i died a (somewhat) natural death & the next thing i knew i was kind of unknowingly digging myself out of my grave. i don't know how or why i was resurrected, if someone else did it, if i did it myself, if it was some kind of divine intervention, no clue. in the world i remember, zombies were a known phenomenon that hadn't yet been explained by science.

living people reacted to us in a lot of different ways, some kind of worshiped us and treated us like we were chosen by the gods or otherwise special, but most just thought it was weird/gross and tried to avoid us. a few ppl wanted to get rid of us because it was "unnatural and contagious" (it couldn't actually be transmitted like a disease, in my world at least), there was even a group of ppl who denied our existence entirely. it was also pretty common for medical students to (consensually, most of the time) practice their skills on zombies, kind of like they do in this world with corpses, but we were more convenient because it was really hard to kill us and we didn't really experience much pain, plus we could heal (to an extent), and we were pretty much immune to infection & other complications/side effects. i think it was also a way of gathering information for research since there wasn't much known about us or how/why we existed.

as for the symptoms & what it felt like - i remember when i first crawled out of the dirt the main thing i noticed was that my body was completely still. my heart didn't beat, the blood didn't flow in my veins, i didn't particularly feel the need to breathe or blink. i was just as disabled in that world as i am in this one, but after i died some of my disabilities didn't really affect me anymore. i wasn't in horrible pain in the way i usually am, i just felt like all of my skin was slightly bruised and there was a dull ache all over my body but it was easy to ignore, and my bones felt,, empty? my brainfog/dissociation got a lot worse though. all of my senses felt much more dull but i definitely still had them. it took more pressure for me to feel things touching my skin, my vision was cloudy and less colorful, i couldn't really smell or taste most things other than meat, blood, decay, dirt, mildew, etc. other smells/tastes would have to be really strong/intense for me to pick up on it at all. i was dead for about 3? days before i emerged, and i was buried in winter, so decomposition hadn't totally taken over yet. i did continue to decompose after that, but eventually i figured out that keeping myself fed (primarily with non-human brain matter & insects) would stop that process and sometimes even reverse the effects of it to an extent. if i went too long without feeding or if i fed on the wrong things too often i would feel really sick and my skin would get even more flaky. sometimes huge chunks of skin or even small body parts would fall off, but they could be successfully reattached by any doctor who was willing to work with zombies.

visually/appearance wise - i was more pale and my skin had a kind of light-grey-green-ish tint to it. the parts of me that fell off and had to be reattached ended up looking more purple-pink-ish for a while, but usually they'd go back to the grey-green color eventually. the whites of my eyes were more blue & my irises were dark grey. my veins were more visible through my skin and they were a lot darker, almost black. my natural hair color is brown and before i died i had my hair dyed black, afterwards the color just never faded and my hair didn't grow anymore so it didn't change much, but the areas where my roots were showing turned grey.

i can't rly think of any other specific things to talk about but if u have more questions or if u want more clarification on something i said here feel free to send another ask!!!

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff: Hazbin Hotel

Welcome Back Friends, to the Show That Never Ends

I will admit, while I'm a fan of her overall work, after seeing the pilot I wasn't into Hazbin Hotel. Not that it looked bad, just didn't appeal to me whereas Helluva Boss was more my speed. When the A24 pickup was announced though, I was intrigued because its lacking appeal didn't mean complete disinterest in its potential direction, you feel me? The future is alive now and a full series is finally here, blindsiding you with more shades of red than your blood stream. And you know, color me impressed that we truly got to this point upon the unbearable avarice of online chaos surrounding the creator that had its fair share of critics upon an Everest mass of pisstakers. But I'm not here to rummage all that, I just want to finally review Hazbin Hotel at long last.

So let's start with the presentation

Maybe it's thanks to Helluva Boss, but I've always liked Viv's flair in design and color. Things get to stand out in a way that says yes, she owns it. This is the art of somebody who was THE regular at Hot Topic AND adjacent Spencer's, has an autographed Gir hoodie buried in her closet, probably read Revolutionary Utena or Rose of Versailles in school, and her dream was to bring that vision of her childhood to life. Vaggie I say is my favorite design wise, major pilot improvement where the red and black compliments her cream and grey colors. Can things all look busy and disoriented? Of course, never to an eyesore degree but there can exist... garish clashes, like you're wondering how the boarders no less animators were able to put some scenes together. Then again, it's the rare time I can say "I've never seen anything like this" for a cartoon and it actually means something.

Needs more furries though, we can never have enough Broadway studded furry characters

Storywise, I think will be hard to follow unless you've seen the pilot, which is thankfully still online. Episode 0 I say better introduces the characters and whole initial feeling of the hotel's existence since Charlie introduces it to the citizens of Hell first. The structure of this season I was pretty lost on until I found that good ol' "Monkey connects it to another show to make his point" lightbulb. This is that kind of series that unravels as you go along, so if the first two episodes aren't your tea then you oughta drop this show, or not and "hatewatch" like the sodomite you'll become in your 40s. I was reminded of The Bear or Silicon Valley in that it's not about running the titular hotel but the characters getting it together before operations truly start. Charlie has her goal and deadline, and it's all a methodical stream of how bad or good things can turn out for everyone involved. It's story driven but more focal on the characters, if you follow. Speaking of which, let's finally talk characters... and how they're my biggest issue with this series.

Except Nifty. I can never hate on gremlins

I'll say with the characters, it's NOT that their scripts consist "just of swearing and sex jokes". Whether or not the case, this is me we're talking about. El Superbeasto is my all time favorite adult animated movie, and the Hellverse is tamer by comparison. Won't knock points because humor is "subjective", but I'm never gonna act like I'm above the large swear counts or thinking of the nasty every other minute and beyond the first episode, they lessen the excess. The no shits given humor of Viv's work still feels refreshing.

Trust me, nothing Adult has trumped the champ yet

My real issue is something I've realized for Vivienne's shows overall: she's not great at making... flexible characters, lack of a better term? What I mean is that when they work, they work purely in service of the stories, its gags, and it's hard thinking about them outside of their shows if we don't count the porn and memes. They're not static, but I think too symbiotic to the narrative. That's where the dominoes start because being inflexible means they have to be more compelling and if they're not, then the story falls apart. And yeah, Hazbin's characters aren't as compelling. I like them, but I'm not invested in them. The crux of this is that while the pacing can fly, none of the characters provide that snappy dynamic you would get with an ensemble. With Helluva Boss, you could throw Blitz and the crew in different scenarios and it's engaging enough just seeing them run amok. A pinchful of episodes and the Hazbin crew don't really do it for me beyond the occasional gag and piecing clues about them together. The musical numbers are great character moments in their own right, like everyone of them are actual bangers, but for only two an episode they are doing the heavy lifting. Again, it's that type of show where every piece comes into play one at a time, so it's conflicting where I want to be into this series but I'm not that into it.

Charlie also makes it somewhat worth it; infectious enthusiasm is my kryptonite

I overall can't fit this show in a box, and I frankly didn't want to. You think I went into this cartoon cavalcade, radiating with juvenile fujo theater kid energy, about a bunch of sailor mouths that can sing gospel from heaven AND hell and have everything click? It's not possible, but that's what I can respect about this and Vivienne overall. This show doesn't posses a "fuck all of you" type feeling, but an "I want to do this, you can join or go" feeling. Not everything works, but it's meaningfully experimental in a way that somehow makes it meta. Like Charlie and the Satanic Panic Plaza, nothing about this should've functioned, this shouldn't have had any saving graces and got left obscurely on Youtube, but it could and many saw that regardless of how well they're able to express. Viv actually committed to seeing this through and this speaks a lot about creators who put in to an non-compromised vision.

You could say, it's always about finding that one person who gets the joke

From the fractions of episodes I got to watch, I'm unsure if this is a hidden masterpiece or a disasterpiece of storytelling or if it's just okay. I don't know if the show's team can stick the landing, but the fun in her work has always been the journey. She put in the effort since way back for me to give her stuff a chance, to actually review Hazbin Hotel earnestly as opposed to belittling things which would've been easy. To conclude, with all its flaws this is enthusiastic, fascinating start to an otherwise predictably unpredictable year that's leagues better than the Velma series because I actually want to see where season 2 goes.

I'm just glad this finally exists, regardless of the hell it took to get here

[wobblesthecowgirl]

I'm No O’Driscoll!

Chapter One: Rescue Mission

Tags: Arthur Morgan x Femreader, enemies to lovers, O'Driscoll reader, game plot, Arthur doesn't have tuberculosis, eventual smut, 18+, mild gore

Word Count: 1710

A/N: This is my first rdr2 ff! This is also my first time posting ff on tumblr so I hope it's set up nicely! I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading! I hope to make this a long series.

Despite being apart of the gang, Y/n hated the O’Driscoll’s. Except for Kieran Duffy, who acted like her brother, like her partner in crime. Which was how she found herself in Horseshoe Overlook after following the Van Der Linde Gang.

She used her binoculars to get a better look. It was nighttime, so the only light she had was the moon and the warm glow of the campfire. She pinpointed Kieran, who was sitting on the grass with his hands tied behind a tree. He looked malnourished and weak. The anger upon seeing his sorry state only worsened for the woman, as she sat to think of a plan. She groaned in annoyance. This wasn’t what she usually did. I’m a sniper, she thought to herself, not a stealthy hero.

There were too many people around for her to use her actual skills, so her best bet was to sneak behind the tree and cut him loose without cause a scene. Shoving her binoculars in her satchel and making her way over with her knife in hand, she was able to get to the tree.

“Kieran!” Y/n whisper shouted, causing the poor man to jump out of his skin. He turned his head around, and his eyes widened when he saw who it was.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?”

“Getting you, dumbass.” She already started cutting at the rope, which was too thick for her knife.

“Leave me! This gang is real scary.” He pleaded, “If they catch you, you’ll end up like me…or worse!”

She ignored his pleas for her to abandon him and focused on getting the rope loose. She was halfway there, the rope almost freeing him, when she got caught.

“Hey!” The voice was low and gruff. Y/n snapped her head up to see a tall, broad man with a beaten cowboy hat on, pointing a pistol right at her. She moved away from the tree slowly, but before she could make a run for it, he shot her in the thigh. She instantly fell to the ground, screaming in agony as she held the wound in hopes to stop the bleeding. The fabric of her jeans didn’t help ease the pain as it was now sticking to her wound.

The man ran towards her, pulling her up harshly and propping her up against the tree next to Kieran, who was calling out to her, as she was tied up. He was right, she was now in the exact same position she was in. 

The man who shot her was glaring as others from the gang showed up. 

“Dutch!” The man called out for the ringleader, who jogged over.

“What is it, Arthur?” 

The man she now knew as Arthur gestured at her sorry state before replying, “We have another O’Driscoll, I caught her trying to free our friend Kieran.” 

Everyone was staring at her whimpering state. Her hair was messy from the journey over, her black button up top had been untucked from her jeans, her satchel and belt were barely intact, and her wound was only getting worse. 

“Well now, she doesn’t seem like that much of a threat!” Dutch chuckled, earning a glare from Y/n.

“You shot me!” She hissed at Arthur, who seemed surprised by her feisty nature despite bleeding out; she knew it was a risky move, especially as she was becoming lightheaded. 

Arthur pointed at her, his eyebrows furrowed, “Of course I did. You snuck onto our camp, trying to free our prisoner!” He then turned to a woman with black hair in a messy bun.

“Abigail, will you please tend to her wound. Can’t interrogate her if she dies on us.” 

Abigail nodded her head as he thanked her, and she soon returned with medical supplies. Everyone kept a close eye on her, hatred in their eyes. An older man with a grey hair spoke up to Dutch, “Are you sure it’s wise to have another O’Driscoll on camp? Having too many may cause a riot.” 

“I think this is a great opportunity!” The gang’s leader said, “She came all this way for him, so they must care for one another. We can use that against them when getting the information we need on Colm.” 

Y/n’s eyes were going fuzzy, and Kieran’s cries were starting to sound far away. Abigail made her way over with the med kit; she seemed to be talking to the wounded O’Driscoll but was ignored as she began to pass out. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

When she awoke again, the sunlight blinded her, and every inch of her body ached. Her arms were cramped, her neck snore, but the biggest pain was her thigh, which felt like it had been beaten and set on fire. She looked down to see the wound had been disinfected and sewn up, and the fabric had been cut a little to get to it, leaving her thigh exposed. 

“Y/n! You’re awake! Oh, I was so worried!” Kieran’s voice caught her attention, who sighed with relief; he was stood up, most likely to stretch his legs. 

“I’m sorry.” Were her first words to him, she stretched her legs out in front of her and winced as a sharp stabbing pain went up her leg. 

“No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got shot, and now you’re a hostage too.” He also apologised, a sympathetic look on his face which matched that of a kicked puppy.

“Hey, don’t go crying now.” She warned him, rolling her eyes like she always did. He nodded his head but looked away, probably to go against her request. However, her attention was diverted to the very man who shot her, as he strode over to her. 

“You’re awake.” He stated, standing in front of her, making her look up at him from her seating position. He must’ve been at least six two and built like a brick house. Either way, she wasn’t winning a physical fight against him any time soon. 

“I appear to be.” She stated, deciding to be cocky. If she was going to die, she wanted to die with her dignity and sarcasm. He clicked his tongue, clearly not impressed with her quick remark. 

“I wouldn’t get smart if I were you. Someone in your position can’t afford to be arrogant.” He folded his arms as she scoffed, shaking her head.

“My position? You mean shot in the leg and tied up? If anything, I think this calls for sarcastic remarks towards the very man who put me in this predicament.” 

“I hope you talk this much when I ask you about Colm.” He sighed, rubbing is eyes and placing one hand on his hip. She went quiet, realising being shot and tied up were probably the start of a long, antagonising death. 

“Well don’t get quiet now.” Arthur snapped, but she looked away from him, receiving a small groan from the older man. 

“We can start of easy.” He began, “What’s your name?” 

Still facing away from him, she replied, “Why should you get the honours of knowing that?” 

“I can see that wasn’t an easy question.” The irritation was laced in his words as she refused to cooperate. She looked up at him again, who had an impatient look on his face. It seemed he wasn’t going to leave till she answered.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She mocked, the same irritation in her words. He shot me, why should I make this easy for him?

“Are you a child?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing but still answered her, “Arthur. Arthur Morgan.”

She hummed after hearing his name, and then fell silent. The wind picked up, causing Y/n’s hair to get messier, and creating goosebumps along her skin. The man sighed before walking towards Kieran who instantly cowered. Her once bored attitude was no more, now she was on high alert.

“Look,” Arthur began, “I ain’t gonna hit you, I don’t hit ladies. But I do hit men, and you clearly care for this one. If you don’t start talking, he’s gonna get hurt, and you don’t want him to get hurt, do you?” 

She watched as Arthur swung his leg back and kicked her friend hard on the shin, causing him to crouch down in pain and wriggle his bound wrists. 

“Alright! It’s Y/n L/n! You asshole!” She spat at him, trying to get the man away from Kieran. Arthur smirked and made his way back over to the woman. Oh, how I would love to smack that smug look off his face. 

“There we go, that’s much better. Well Miss L/n, you wanna tell me where Colm O’Driscoll is hiding?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t care to share that type of information with me.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word she said. All she could do was nod her head, not bothering to develop her answer further. Arthur shrugged his shoulders, “Suit yourself. The longer you put off telling us, the longer you go without food.” He stated before turning around and walking off back to his tent, leaving Y/n to glare daggers at his back.

“This is real bad. I’ve gone days without food, I can’t take it much longer.” Kieran made sure Arthur was gone before her conversed with her. She tried moving her leg again, but the pain was unbearable.

 

“Just you wait Kieran. We are going to get out of here, and I’ll make sure I snipe that man right between his eyes. Whatever you do, don’t tell them anything. We won’t be able to go back, we’d be hung for selling Colm out.” 

Kieran rested the back of his head against the tree, looking dead ahead.

“I don’t think I want to go back.”

“We don’t have a choice,” She exhaled, “We would be hunted down if we tried to be lone wolves. We are bound to the O’Driscoll gang till we die. Let’s just make sure our death is merciful.” 

With that, the two captives fell silent, watching the rest of the campers go about their day: eating, doing chores, and laughing with one another as the days ticked on. 

[moonpaw]

I'm still new to OP (only began watching the anime around a year ago) and have been considering making your edited versions of the manga my first actual read-through of it. Would you recommend that, do you think, or are the changes you're making better suited for folks rereading the manga?

Also if it is suitable for first time reads / if you wouldn't mind someone's first foray into the manga being your edits, would you recommend the alternate versions you made, or...? (I'm clueless and looking for a bit of direction because I think the project is cool but most of the discussion has been written for and by people already familiar with the text) (I'd really appreciate hearing your thoughts if it's not too much of a bother thank u)

I'm trying to make it for both re-reads and first timers! East Blue-Alabasta are a little rough around the edges in my opinion, so i've been slowly.... once again.... going through it... (only started doing this very recently so its nowhere near done, but its only like, small little changes and clean up, nothing too ground shattering)

Personally I'm pretty proud of how Skypiea turned out, there was a lot of work to be done with the whole kami/god thing and Eneru/Enel's name. I really want to make it enjoyable for as many people as possible, and names matter to me, dang it! That's why I made a separate download for the Eneru enjoyers out there if they don't vibe with the edited Enel

I'm not sure if i actually mentioned this, but I've been cleaning up the jpeg artifacts and making the grey scale shading just a BIT smoother! Which... may not be really noticeable... but I really like how it looks

sadly, I don't think tumblr helps to get that across quality-wise, but other than it looking a bit smoother, it just helps to make edits less noticeable because the artifacts would cluster around the text ever so slightly

The main difference with the alternate version is that honorifics are implemented, and when one of the main characters (cough Sanji cough) uses them a lot, I would personally prefer to see them because they're apart of his character (not to mention Vivi's! She's so polite!) And the fact that Sanji is the only one who Nami adds a -kun to! I love little details like that!

So between the Standard and Alternate is just depends on if you like having honorifics or not! Oh and if you want Gum-Gum or Gomu-Gomu... I'm a gum-gum hater but I know people prefer that more, so I left it alone in the Standard version

So that's you're answer! It all depends on your preference! That is the goal with this project :]

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