#or in the event they do its on a minor scale

[red-dyed-sarumane]

i dont have "liked it before it was cool" syndrome i have looking at a wiki and going "i know more than you" syndrome

[lanshappycorner]

Sometimes I look outside my scope of mutuals and I'm like.....I'm glad I'm not them (whole essay in the tags)

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be. 

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right. 

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had. 

however, that’s when you came along. 

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother  (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either. 

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.” 

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal.  “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?” 

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap. 

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.” 

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t. 

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him. 

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo. 

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs. 

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters. 

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs. 

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin. 

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?” 

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?” 

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.” 

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment. 

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust. 

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers. 

again, neither of you care. 

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under. 

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm. 

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?” 

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.” 

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.” 

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?” 

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess. 

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.” 

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and  feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby.  “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height. 

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.” 

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you. 

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him. 

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.” 

“are you sure, baby?” 

“please—“ 

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…” 

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips. 

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt. 

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter. 

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.” 

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall. 

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you. 

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.” 

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.” 

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much. 

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds. 

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…” 

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well. 

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct. 

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on. 

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them. 

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.” 

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub. 

“o-oh! seishiro!” 

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.” 

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.” 

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound. 

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you. 

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer. 

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?” 

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.” 

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.” 

“do you think I can do it?” 

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.” 

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it. 

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[joelsgreys]

a safe haven l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: After the events in Salt Lake City, Joel and Ellie are back in Jackson, Wyoming to start a brand new life in the safe haven; Ellie has a difficult time fitting in and adjusting in the community, but she finds a friend in you; Joel meets you for the very first time and strange new feelings instantly take root.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. AGE GAP (no specific age is mentioned, but reader’s in her late 20s/early 30s and Joel is 56). reader is basically an OFC but story is written in reader format and her physical descriptions are kept as vague as possible. i have my own face claim for her, but i will only ever share it under cuts and with disclaimers. reader is married, Ellie plays a very important role in the series, hints at her strained relationship with Joel but this will indeed be a fix it fic because he deserves it, okay?

word count: 8.1k

Jackson, Wyoming | June, 2024

Joel’s deep, dark brown eyes linger on you from across the town mess hall with sheer, almost unabashed curiosity. Then again, he doesn’t even realize that he’s staring.

It’s about half past twelve, the designated lunch break hour in Jackson, and the larger scale eatery, which for the last couple of years has been run by an older man named Seth and his two surviving adult sons, is alive and well, buzzing loudly with obnoxious, overlapping chatter.

The hall is almost over maximum capacity, packed to the brim with several members of the steadily growing community who had stopped in for a quick bite to eat before having to resume their daily work duties around the settlement. Or at least, a majority of them had, anyway. Others shamelessly try to milk their lunch hour for all that it’s worth and more, dragging it out and extending their allotted free time for as long as they possibly can before having to return to their scheduled tasks around the commune. They float about the place, socializing as if the mess hall had suddenly turned into The Tipsy Bison, the bar right across the road that’s also owned by Seth.

Somehow, by a stroke of sheer good luck, you’d managed to find yourself a smaller, unoccupied table nestled against the wall, away from all the hustle and bustle. It’s tucked away over in the furthest corner of Jackson’s busy and bustling makeshift canteen, near where the aluminum double doors that lead back to the kitchens are propped wide open for the mess hall staff who were coming in and out to replenish the dishes at the buffet. 

You’re sitting at the table alone, your plastic lunch tray surrounded by an absurd amount of open books that Joel had very little choice but to assume came from the town’s modest, but decent sized library that he’d seen nestled between the schoolhouse and the old church, right behind Main Street. In between delicate bites of oven baked chicken and roasted vegetables harvested fresh from the gardens, you reach up and take the blunt, worn yellow pencil that’s tucked in the space behind your ear, using it to scribble on the notepad in your lap before putting the pencil back in its designated place. Although you’re clearly working through your lunch break today, that doesn’t stop you from being interrupted on several different occasions by numerous individuals—friends and familiar faces all approach you with hopeful expressions, eager to join you and keep you company. 

Sure, the hall is full, but there’s still a number of available seats still left at other partially occupied tables nearby, bigger tables that aren’t crowded with books like yours, tables whose occupants aren’t busy working, studying—doing whatever it is that you’re doing. It becomes apparent to Joel that you’re something of a hot commodity around here. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but there’s just something about you that reminds him of the sweet and popular small town girl his favorite country artists would sing about back in the day. The kind of girl with a magnetic presence and irresistible charm—the kind of girl that anyone can fall head over heels in love with in one way or another. 

There’s something almost too endearing about the gracious way you offer up just the most saccharine smile and apologetic doe eyes as you point to your books, politely declining every offer for companionship that comes your way, saying something he can imagine to be along the lines of, not today or maybe another time. Eventually, after a while, you’re finally left alone to bury yourself back into whatever it is that’s keeping you occupied that you can’t even have your midday meal in peace—you’re so engrossed in the task that you don’t even notice the older, salt and pepper haired newcomer who’s been blatantly staring at you from his table over on the opposite of the hall for the last several minutes. 

It’s not the first time Joel’s seen you around.

He still vividly remembers the moment when he’d first laid eyes on you several months ago during the winter season. 

It had been the morning after his fight with Ellie, after she’d confronted him and he had been forced to fess up about his plans to hand her off to his younger brother, Tommy—he’d asked him, pleaded with him, to get her to the Fireflies in Colorado. Joel’s mind had been in an all out raging war, his heart torn between doing what he’d felt was best for Ellie and what he truly wanted, which was to remain by her side and get her to where she needed to be himself. But how the fuck could he do that when all he’d managed to do in the few months prior to their arrival in Wyoming was fail to protect her over and over again? Sure, Ellie was a teenager, now closer to being an adult than anything else, but she was still a child, one who needed to be protected, kept safe. She needed somebody who could get to where she needed to be in one piece, and Joel had come to the conclusion that, as much as he wanted to be that person, he simply wasn’t capable. Slower, older, his hearing getting worse and worse as the days go by, he feared he’d only end up getting her killed if she continued on with him, a scenario he fucking refused to let happen at all costs. He wouldn’t hold another child’s dead body in his arms, not again.

Following a very long and sleepless night of tossing and turning, Joel had pulled himself out of bed just after sunrise that morning. After getting dressed, he’d quietly slipped out of the house and made his way down to the horse stables, hoping he could leave the commune as soon as possible and without notice from Tommy—and especially without notice from Ellie. It’s not that he had wanted to leave without saying goodbye to her, but Joel knew he wouldn’t have it in him to follow through with the decision he’d made about parting ways with her if he saw her face again, not a fucking chance. And so there he’d been, in one of the stalls at the stables, saddling up the horse he planned to steal and take off on when you’d walked by, flashing him a warm and friendly smile, probably assuming he was just another patrolman getting ready to head out for the morning shift. 

Joel had just stared at you, lips pressed together into a tight, thin line with an emotionless expression on his hard, stony face.

Of course, you were nothing more than a complete stranger who didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going through his mind. You couldn’t have possibly imagined what was happening to the tortured older man you’d just encountered, the way his inner turmoil was a single thought away from tearing him apart from the inside out. You’d probably just thought he was rude for not smiling back, or at the very least, offering you a courteous good morning.

He’d almost forgotten about you since then.

Almost.

It’d been rather difficult for him to forget all about the prettiest goddamn fucking face he’d ever seen since the world ended two decades ago—not even after all of the events that followed that fateful morning.

The next time Joel had seen you was on his second day back in Wyoming. He and Ellie had made a trip down to the produce market on Main Street to pick up some vegetables and jarred preserves to stock up the kitchen pantry of their new, forever home. He’d caught sight of you as you made your way down one of the aisles towards the sweet potato bins with a brown, woven basket hanging from one arm and a reusable shopping bag draped over the other. Before Joel even realized that he’d been staring, your kind gaze met his own from across the market and you smiled at him again.

Still just as warm, still just as friendly. And you were still just as fucking beautiful as he remembered.

Much like that winter morning in the horse stables, Joel didn’t smile back at you. 

Two for fucking two—surely you must have thought he was a mannerless asshole at this point. He honestly wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’d think the same. 

Tommy, who had made it back from leading his morning patrol group just in time to join him for lunch, waves a hand in front of Joel’s face, looking thoroughly amused. “Maybe we should find you a goddamn camera,” he teases, letting out a small chuckle once he’d finally managed to break the older Miller’s trance, garnering his attention. “Y’know, so you can take a picture. It’ll last a hell of a lot longer.”

Joel scowls at his brother, though he says nothing.

He can’t very well deny that he’d been caught openly gawking. 

“Shut up, Tommy,” is all he can come up with before taking a large bite of seasoned carrots, heat flooding his face. The way Tommy’s looking at him, with that mischievous glimmer in his eyes, it reminds Joel of their younger years, when Tommy would make it his mission in life to do anything that would cause him discomfort just for his own kicks. 

“Hey, I don’t really blame you, y’know.” Tommy reaches over for his glass of sweet iced tea and picks it up, taking a long and refreshing sip. Smacking his lips together, he casually shrugs his shoulders, shooting Joel a knowing smirk over the top the glass as he comments, “She’s certainly a sight for sore eyes, ain’t she, big brother?”

“Watch it. Don’t think Maria would appreciate you sayin’ that kinda thing ’bout another woman who ain’t her,” Joel warns, cocking an eyebrow at him. His brother hadn’t always been the most faithful of partners in his first life, but Tommy truly seemed to be head over heels in love with his wife. Hearing him talk about another woman makes Joel wonder if perhaps remnants of his playboy ways still lingered behind even after twenty years. With Maria having just found out she was expecting his child, Joel certainly hopes that isn’t the case. “Eyes to yourself, asshole.”

Tommy shrugs again. “Ain’t no real harm in just takin’ a quick peek every once in a while,” he muses, although there’s a joking edge to his tone. Setting his glass of iced tea back down onto the table in front of him, he leans back into his chair and glances over at you. He lets out a long, low whistle, another smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh trust me, I get it, Joel—hell, every man around here gets it, fuckin’ single or not. She’s a real fuckin’ beauty, she is. But I should probably go ahead and warn you now that it’s best you don’t go gettin’ any ideas when it comes to that one.”

Before Joel can even stop himself, he finds himself asking, “Why’s that?

“Well for starters, that girl’s damn near half your fuckin’ age, you old fucker.”

Joel flips him off.

“Besides that, she’s already spoken for.” 

“She’s got a boyfriend.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“She’s got a husband,” Tommy corrects him. “She’s a married woman, Joel. And here’s the real fuckin’ kicker. She’s married to Jackson’s only doctor.”

Joel snorts, rolling his eyes. “A real doctor? Or just some fuckin’ clueless prick who claims to be a doctor?” he questions, shoving another forkful of his carrots into his mouth.

The younger man laughs at the bitter skepticism, knowing that it’d come from a place of envy more than anything. “Real, Joel. The guy’s around my age, give or take a couple years. He was finishin’ up his medical school residency when the outbreak first happened, at least that’s what Maria says,” he explains. He notices the confusion flash across Joel’s face and continues to elaborate. “Two of them go way back, went to the same college before she transferred out to another school for her law degree. Maria came across him and his group one day while out lookin’ for supplies. She said he still knew his stuff after all these years and decided to bring him in as the community’s physician. He looks after everyone around here. Delivers the babies, stitches up wounds. Hell, I broke my arm in a stupid ridin’ accident last summer and he set the bone right back into place, had me good as new within a few weeks. S’a miracle we’ve got someone like him around here.”

Joel glances down at his plate, twiddling his fork between his thumb and his index finger. He would have been a goddamn dirty liar if he’d said that finding out you were a married woman didn’t bother him. 

And to a fucking hero doctor nonetheless.

That only makes it sting a little harder.

Tommy immediately picks up on his brother’s disappointment in hearing the news about you being taken and softly kicks his shin with the toe of his boot underneath the table. “Y’know Joel, there’s plenty of other single women around here. Pretty ones, and real nice, too,” he informs him with a small smile. He pauses and then offers, “If you’re interested, I could introduce you around. Maria has this friend, her name is Esther and she’s a real cute blonde—”

“That’s the last thing on my fuckin’ mind,” Joel grumbles out in reply. He tightly shakes his head. “I just fuckin’ got here, Tommy. Besides, I’ve got Ellie that I need to take care of. We’re both tryin’ to get used to this place after bein’ out there on the road for so long. We’re still in the middle of gettin’ ourselves settled. The kid’s my priority right now—my only fuckin’ priority. Not meetin’ someone.”

Not wanting to push him too far, Tommy goes along with the subject change. “Speakin’ of Ellie, how’s she been doin’ by the way? Haven’t really seen much of her since you two got back.”

Joel hesitates, momentarily unable to meet Tommy’s eyes.

It’d been a couple of weeks now since the events that took place back in Salt Lake City. 

Since the hospital.

Since the Fireflies.

Joel had certainly thought once or twice about confiding in Tommy about what he had done. How he had ruthlessly and without a single ounce of mercy killed all of those people in the hospital, how he had shot Marlene dead at point blank range—how he had violently and single handedly stopped what had most likely been humanity’s only chance at potentially finding a cure for the cordyceps infection by preventing the Fireflies from operating on Ellie and performing a brain surgery that would have killed her. 

Joel doesn’t regret it, nor does he regret the choice he’d made on Ellie’s behalf.

He would do it all over again in a fucking heartbeat if it came down to it.

He doesn’t carry guilt over having done what he’d done, but he does carry the guilt of having lied to her about it after it was all said and done. He felt awful for looking her in the eye and swearing to her that everything he’d said about the Fireflies was true when it wasn’t. Ellie claimed to believe him, but he knew better than that. She was smart, too fucking smart for her own good. She might not have known the extent of it all, but she knew for certain that Joel wasn’t being entirely forthright about what had gone down in Salt Lake City while she’d been unconscious.

From that moment on the mountain, things had been quite tense between them. That conversation instantly caused a rift in their relationship, but Joel could tell she was doing her very best to force herself to fully believe that he was still a person she could trust, a person she could put her faith in. He took an odd sense of comfort in knowing that her forced efforts to keep believing in him had to have meant something good. 

She didn’t want to give up on him or on their relationship.

Joel exhales a heavy sigh, finally answering the question. “Not too great,” he admits, quietly. “I’m real worried ‘bout her, Tommy. It’s been a couple weeks now since we’ve been back and she still hasn’t made one single goddamn friend around here. She doesn’t fuckin’ talk to anyone, barely even talks to Maria.” He sighs again, tiredly rubbing the side of his face with his free hand. “She spends most of her time hidin’ out in the stables with the horses. She would rather be around them than other people. She can’t live the rest of her life like that. I try to tell her she needs to put in more effort on her part, but she won’t fuckin’ listen to me.”

“Just give her some more time, Joel. After everythin’ that poor kid’s been through in her life, it ain’t a big surprise that she’s strugglin’ a bit to fit in around here, y’know?” Tommy notices the way his older brother’s jaw clenches and he offers him a look of sympathy. “Look, I know Ellie means a whole lot to you and if I were you, I would be real worried ’bout her too. But just give her a little more time to adjust. She’ll get there, I know she fuckin’ will. She’s a real strong kid, big brother.”

“Yeah, I know she is,” Joel murmurs in agreement. “Hell of a lot stronger than someone her age should have to be.”

“She’ll be just fine,” Tommy reassures him. “She’ll find her place here, Joel. Just wait. You’ll see.”

“I sure as hell fuckin’ hope you’re right.”

You relish the feeling of warm sunlight hitting your face.

Summer’s just beginning in Wyoming, and after a particularly long, cold and cruel winter that swept the western state this last year, you couldn’t have been more thrilled to see that warmer weather is well on its way.

At least, for now you’re thrilled.

Winters in Jackson were god awful, but summers could be just as brutal, if not worse.

Clutching the strap of your old, but sturdy brown leather satchel bag securely over your shoulder, you hurriedly make your way across the settlement from the mess hall and back towards the horse stables, the place you commonly referred to as your second home—it wasn’t all that much of a joke, seeing as you often spent more time there than you didn’t. It’s now after lunch hour, and there’s still plenty of work to be done before the end of the day rolls around, most of it which would undoubtedly trickle into the next day.

Being the only veterinarian in the community, there was always more than plenty of work to be done every day. Too much work to be done by one single person alone. Often, you find yourself feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. You feel like you’re completely in over your head, and it leaves you wondering if you’d made the right decision by taking such an enormous responsibility into your hands.

Then again, it’s not like you’d been given much of a choice. In a way, it had been expected of you.

Prior to passing away from illness two summers ago, your father had been the veterinarian who looked after the animals. Even though you hadn’t been trained professionally like he had, your father decided to spend the final years of his life teaching you to the best of his ability and with what little resources he had available. After all, Jackson was going to need someone to step up and take care of the animals when he was gone—particularly the hoses. Even as his physical health worsened, he used every last ounce of strength he had left in him to prepare you to take over for him when he died. Thanks to him and all he’d done for you, you certainly knew a thing or two, but the job was still daunting, even after all this time of being in practice on your own without him there to guide you like before.

Keeping the horses healthy to begin with made your job a hell of a lot easier, but when a horse became sick or injured, that was when your knowledge and your skills were truly put to the test. Horses were how everyone traveled when in search of needed supplies, how patrolmen and women moved around while they were out and about on watch keeping the community safe against the infected and against raiders. Horses were one of the most important, most precious resources the commune possessed. They kept everything going, everyone moving, and you’d be fucking lying if you said that being the sole person in charge of caring for them didn’t put a tremendous amount of pressure on your shoulders.

Sensing your doubt, Maria Miller often assured you that you were the best person for the role—the only person for the role. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she had complimented you over coffee at her place the morning after you had successfully removed a bullet lodged into the shoulder of one of the horses that had been injured while Tommy and his group were out on overnight patrol. They’d stumbled across violent and armed raiders, and luckily everyone had made it out unscathed with the exception of Tommy’s beloved black horse, Ranger. You recalled being pulled out of your bed in the middle of the night to tend to him, the first serious case you had to take care of without your father’s guidance. Thankfully, the stallion’s injury hadn’t been life threatening, and you were able to patch him up within the hour. After just a few weeks of working with Ranger and putting him through physical therapy, the horse made a full recovery and both Maria and Tommy couldn’t have been more thrilled with your work.

Still, you still continued questioning your own abilities, but it didn’t really matter in the end. Both Maria and Tommy decided to assign you as Jackson’s equine veterinarian, pulling you from your previous job, which had been helping Seth make sandwiches at The Tipsy Bison.

You rush into the stables, making a mental list with the names of all the horses that you still need to check over for the day, including the group of horses that had just arrived back from that morning’s patrol. You make your way down to the very last stall which is serving as home to a stunning, chestnut-brown pregnant mare.

“Hi there, Stella,” you coo sweetly, beaming at the beauty. “Hi, my gorgeous girl. How are you doing today, sweetie pie?”

“I would be doing a hell of a lot better if I could have one of those apples in your bag,” a voice answers, startling you slightly.

Peering around Stella’s body, you catch sight of Ellie laying down on a small bed of hay in the furthest corner of the stall. She’d made something of a pillow out of her backpack, kicking back as she flips through her favorite superhero comic book for what had to be the hundredth time. She offers you a silly, lopsided grin the minute she takes a glimpse at the baffled look on your face. “Howdy.”

“Ellie,” you sigh her name softly. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

“Living my best life,” she deadpans. “What else does it look like I’m doing?”

You try but mostly fail, in hiding your laughter at her quick witted sense of humor. “Ellie,” you say her name again. “You can’t just hide out in here with the horses every single day, you know,” you point out, dropping your heavy satchel bag onto the ground. Stella lowers her head and gives it a sniff, no doubt smelling those apples you always carried around with you.

“Wanna bet?” The teenager quips with a small joking smirk as she sits up, tossing her comic book to the side. Bits of hay stick out of her brown hair, which she always keeps tied back in a messy ponytail.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school with the other kids?”

She rolls her eyes. “I already went to school. Back in the Boston QZ. FEDRA’s finest, dude.”

You don’t know all that much about Ellie Williams—nor about the brooding older man that she’s here with, Joel Miller. The only thing you do know is that Joel happened to be Tommy Miller’s older brother and he acted as Ellie’s guardian. Initially, you’d thought he was her father, but Maria had told you that he had no familial relation to the girl, a fact that took you by complete surprise.

Their arrival in Jackson back during the winter season had the entire town talking—but by the following morning, the pair were gone, not to be seen again for several months until their return towards the end of spring just a couple of weeks ago. Rumors flew once the word of their return had gone around, but in reality, no one had the slightest clue about where they had gone or why they had left the safety of the commune’s walls in the first place. Not even Maria, who had failed in getting her husband to talk. She swore up and down Tommy knew something she didn’t, but he refused to spill his brother’s secrets, even to his own wife.

Like everyone else in the tight knit community, you were curious about Ellie, and you were especially curious about Joel. You’d seen him around a couple of times before, but hadn’t had the chance to meet him yet. Still, even without having spoken a single word to him, you already knew he wasn’t anything like Tommy, or anyone else you’ve ever encountered, really. A man of very few words, he kept to himself, just like Ellie did. Still, Joel knew he needed to find his place and pull his weight in Jackson just like everyone else, and once he began working patrol alongside Tommy, he finally began engaging with other members of the town. 

Reluctantly so, but at the very least, he was trying.

Ellie, on the other hand, avoided everybody at all costs. Everybody, that is, except for you.

Since their arrival, Ellie chose to spend her days in the stables. She’d hang out with the horses while reading her comic books or listening to tapes on some old Walkman she had permanently borrowed from Tommy. Despite a hectic schedule that kept you busy, you eventually started taking the time out of your day to talk to her. It had started off with light chatter about the most trivial of things—how the day was going, whether or not the weather was nice outside, what had been served for lunch in the mess hall that afternoon. Ellie seemed almost annoyed with you at first, but after a couple of days, she’d quickly started warming up to you and by the end of the first week, she had started following you around the stables, joining you wherever you needed to be. The girl had taken a liking to you, but she was still quite guarded and careful, as if she were still testing the waters, figuring out whether or not you could be trusted.

You don’t mind that, though.

Little by little, simply by being kind to her and making the genuine effort to get to know her, you’re slowly beginning to chip away at her layers. There was still quite a long way to go if you ever wanted the teenager to completely open up to you, but you didn’t mind that either.

You’d be as patient with her as you needed to be.

You walk over to her. “Listen Ellie, as much as I really enjoy having you around me all the time, you really do need to make friends, you know.”

She blinks. “But you’re my friend.”

Even as you rephrase yourself, you can’t help but smile. “Friends your own age,” you remark, tucking the loose lock of your hair that had fallen loose from your dutch braid behind your ear. “You know, my husband, he has a niece named Dina. She’s about your age. I could introduce you to each other if you'd like?”

Ellie furiously shakes her head. “No.”

“Ellie—”

“Everyone around here looks at me like I’ve got two fucking heads or something. She probably fucking will too,” she mumbles. She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “I’d have an easier time fitting in around here if I was a fucking clicker.”

Chuckling, you gently shake your head at her.

By now, you’d pretty much gotten used to her rich and colorful vocabulary.

You crouch down in front of her. “Look Ellie, I know how hard it is not to fit in with others.”

“You?” Ellie blows a loud raspberry in complete disbelief. “No fucking way. I don’t believe that for one fucking second, sweet cheeks.”

“Hey, in case you didn’t know this, I haven’t always been this age,” you remind her, lightly swatting at the side of her knee with your hand. “I was fifteen once too.”

“Yeah, and you were probably little miss fucking perfect, just like you are now.” She rolls her brown eyes at you in a teasing manner. “I bet everyone just loved you.”

You swat at her knee again. “Oh, stop that. That couldn’t be any further from the truth,” you reply, wondering where this child had come up with the idea that you are, or had ever been perfect. “I was still living in one of the quarantine zones with my family when I was your age, Ellie. We were living in the Alburquerque QZ for quite a while before it got overrun by the infected. They had schools and everything, just like in Boston. My mother was a nurse, so she had the privilege of enrolling me in one of their better schools, a preparatory school—she had the hope that I’d become an officer so I could have a chance at a decent life.” You pause, noticing a strange glimmer flash in the girl’s eyes, but when she says nothing, you continue on, “So I got the absolute pleasure of going to school with a bunch of kids whose parents were officers and important higher ups in the zone. And let me tell you something, the world may have gone to complete shit, but teenagers can still be fucking assholes.”

Ellie throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Whoa! I never thought I’d hear you curse. I thought you were too fucking prim and proper for that.”

“I’m not all that prim and proper,” you counter, grinning at the way she continues to cackle. “Besides, spending all this time with you might just have me cursing like a fucking sailor by the end of the week.”

“Fuck yeah it will,” she agrees with a nod. 

You grin again, but when your eyes meet Ellie’s, it falters slightly.

Ellie hadn’t told you much of anything about her past, but one thing was for certain—the young girl had been through hell and back. You could see it written all over her face, even when she smiled and even when she laughed. The traces of terror, pain, and trauma were quite subtle, but they were very much present and in recent nights, you’d find yourself lying in bed, wide awake and wondering what all this poor child had gone through in her life. Thoughts about what Ellie had seen, what and who she had lost in this world haunted you.

She’s different. 

What she’d been through made her different.

It set her apart from the other children, especially those who don’t know what it’s like to live a life outside these four walls.

It pained you to know that she felt ostracized when you were willing to bet your life that whatever had happened to her, it hadn’t been her fault.

Ellie Williams wasn’t your responsibility—you hardly know her. But you already care about her. An inexplicable soft spot for her had found its way into your heart from your very first interaction with her. If there’s anything you can do to help her ease into this new way of life, you’ll gladly do so without hesitation.  

“So then,” Ellie finally says after a minute, looking up at you. “Is it, uh, is it alright if I keep coming to the stables to spend time with you and the horses?”

“Of course.” You rise to your feet and glance at Stella. “But only on one condition. You have to help me out with the grooming. I’ve been really short handed lately and could use the extra help. Deal?”

She jumps up to her feet, eagerly nodding her head. “Deal.”

Joel dumps his plastic tray and used dishware into the designated dirty dish bin before shoving his way through the doors of the mess hall. The air outside is still relatively cool, it’s crisp and fresh—but the temperatures are sure to get a hell of a lot warmer now that summer has officially arrived. Not that he minded.

He keeps his sights set straight ahead of him, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone who so much as even throws a glimpse in his direction.

People seem to be getting to him, but oftentimes, he still feels like a pariah. It’s almost like he’s some fucking feral stray cat that Jackson had adopted and taken into it’s home, willing to tame him, but still afraid that he could start tearing shit up at any given moment if they didn’t keep a close enough eye on him. He could handle that, though. It’s his Ellie he’s worried about. Between the survivor’s guilt she’d been dealing with on a daily basis and the way she was looked at in the community by everyone, Joel feared for her well being. He could only hope that Tommy was right about her just needing time and that eventually, she’ll find her place and he’ll have the chance to give her the most normal life possible under the circumstances. 

It’s the very least Joel could do for her after all she’d been through in the last year—after what he’d done, how he had lied straight to her face. He fucking owed her that much.

Ellie deserved happiness, and he would do just about anything in his power to give it to her.

Joel arrives at the horse stables and makes his way inside. “Ellie?” He calls out her name. “Ellie? You in here?”

That’s when he hears her voice. 

“Wait, what? Stella’s pregnant? I didn’t fucking know that!”

Rounding the corner into the very last stall, Joel sees Ellie standing there, her tiny little hand on the muzzle of a brown horse. In her opposite hand, she’s holding a mane brush. She isn’t alone.

He’s surprised to see you standing there beside her, your hands planted on your hips. You’re wearing a pair of well worn light wash blue jeans, the legs tucked into a pair of weathered black riding boots whose soles are completely caked with muck. Joel remembers you wearing an oversized, long sleeved red flannel shirt back in the mess hall, but it’s now off and tied around your waist, leaving you in a thin, cotton white tank top—the material fits snug on your frame, and Joel tries his hardest not to stare at the patch of bare skin that peeks between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your jeans.

Christ.

You’re even more beautiful up close.

Fuckin’ get a grip, Miller, he thinks silently to himself.

“She sure is,” you reply to her question with a wide grin. “We just found out about a week ago and believe she’s about a few weeks along. We’ll have a sweet new baby in a year.”

“What? No fucking way!” Ellie exclaims, looking thoroughly excited, but bewildered by the fact. “Horses are pregnant for a whole year? Holy shit man, that’s fucking nuts!”

“Well, for eleven months,” you clarify for her, giving Stella a gentle, but firm pat on her muscular neck. “This is Stella’s first one. We’re hoping for a smooth pregnancy that reaches full term, but sometimes babies decide to come a bit sooner than expected.”

Curiously, Joel’s lips part and his eyes widen slightly.

He can’t fucking believe it.

Ellie hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone in two weeks and yet here she is, engaging with you so easily and so effortlessly, cracking the first genuine smile he’d seen since they had fed that giraffe back in Salt Lake City. More than that, Ellie is being herself, cursing up a storm and all, and you don’t seem the slightest bit bothered by it, not like the other adults whose jaws would drop in utter horror at her use of such foul language.

Joel wills himself to move and steps inside of the stall. He lightly clears his throat. “Ellie.”

You and Ellie both turn around, glancing in his direction.

“Joel? What are you doing here?” she asks, her smile fading slightly.

“Lookin’ for you. It’s lunchtime. Y’need to go eat somethin’ kiddo.”

She holds up the brush in her hand. “But we were just about to—”

He stops her with a stern glare. “Lunch. Now. Go.”

“Fine,” Ellie huffs and rolls her eyes at him. Picking up her red and tan backpack from the ground, she hands you the mane brush and stomps out of the stall, roughly shoving into Joel’s shoulder as she pushes past him without another word.

Joel glances at you, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over him. Just as he’s about to politely excuse himself and leave, you speak.

“You’re Tommy’s older brother, right? Joel?”

He nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Stepping away from Stella, you walk over to Joel and introduce yourself, extending a hand for him to shake.

Your name is as beautiful as you are and it sounds heavenly when he repeats it, rolling smoothly off his tongue. He takes your hand in his own and the contrast between the two is stark. Your hand is soft against his rough, small compared to his large, but somehow still an all too perfect fit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Joel.” Your eyes find his, meeting them in a way that makes something inside of him that had been sleeping for decades now stir itself awake—it’s a feeling that’s too foreign for him to pinpoint. 

Realizing he’s been holding onto your hand longer than necessary, he drops it and takes a step back, lightly bumping his back against the stall door. “I’m—uh, I’m real sorry ‘bout Ellie,” Joel apologizes to you after a minute. “I know she’s been spendin’ a lot of time in here. I hope she hasn’t been botherin’ you or gettin’ in the way of things. If she is, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“No, no. Of course not. She hasn’t been bothering me at all,” you quickly assure him without missing a beat. “I’m usually in here alone, so it’s actually been really nice having her around. I enjoy her company a lot.”

“You do?”

You toss him a puzzled, but amused look. “Is that so strange?”

Joel places his hands on his hips and leans back against the stall door. “Ellie’s been havin’ a little trouble,” he confesses. “Adjustin’ to life here and meetin’ people. She, uh—she ain’t like all the other kids around here, y’know?”

“I know.”

His eyebrows raise to his hairline—exactly how well had you and Ellie gotten to know each other already? What all had she told you? What did you know about her?

What did you know about him?

Joel tries to mask the concern on his face.

“I was just talking to her a little while ago. I told her I know how hard it is being a teenager and trying to fit it in with the crowd, even in a world like this one.” You let out a humorless laugh and shake your head, the ridiculousness of what you’d just said sounding sillier out loud than it had in your mind. “It’s even harder when you’re just so different.” You detect the way that your statement triggers something of a negative response from Joel—the way his eyes darken in a flash of anger and his nostrils flare slightly tell you he doesn’t take all too kindly to anyone talking negatively about his kid. Ellie being different is something that he already knows, of course, but hearing it from someone else isn’t easy for him, and it certainly isn’t welcome. It puts him right into protective mode and you don’t blame him, not in the slightest. You hold your hands up and reassure him, “There’s nothing wrong with being different, by the way.”

Joel sees the sincerity in your eyes that go hand in hand with your words and his defenses switch off almost as quickly as they’d switched on. “There isn’t,” he agrees with a careful nod of his head. “Nothin’ wrong with it at all.” He clears his throat. “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s just that I don’t really like it when people start runnin’ their mouths ‘bout my kid, that’s all.”

Waving a hand, you assure him, “No need to apologize at all, Joel.”

Little by little, he starts relaxing. Taut and tense muscles that have been wound up for years and years are suddenly beginning to loosen. All it’s taking is being in your presence and talking to you. Joel suddenly understands why Ellie’s taken such a quick liking to you. 

You’re unlike anyone that either of them had ever met before. You’re bright and you bring about this warmth—a different kind of warmth Joel hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It feels like seeing the sun for the very first time after spending years and years trapped in a cold, cold darkness.

He glances around the stall. “So, uh—what’s the deal? You one of the stable hands around here or somethin’ like that?”

“Something like that,” you repeat after him, a tiny grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at the way he speaks with a heavy, but still incredibly charming Southern drawl. “I’m the veterinarian here in Jackson.”

He chuckles. “Y’mean, those still exist?”

“Sort of. My father used to be the veterinarian here,” you explain to him. “That was what he did for a living before the outbreak happened. We lived in New Mexico on a horse ranch when I was growing up—he started off as a stable hand and then he went back to school to become an equine veterinarian. When we got here a few years ago from one of the quarantine zones, he told Maria what he had done for a living before this and he was asked to care for the horses in exchange for our place here.”

“And you?” Joel can’t help but wonder out loud. You seem quite young, can’t be older than your late twenties or early thirties at most, which would still have made you a child when the outbreak happened. “No offense darlin’ but you seem a little bit too young to have gone to vet school before shit hit the fan.”

Darlin’.

He doesn’t mean to call you that. But it’s too late—and you don’t appear bothered by it.

Instead, you laugh, and the sound is like a gorgeous melody he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life if given the chance. “No, I definitely did not go to veterinary school. Actually, my dad taught me everything I know.” You speak fondly of him as you continue to say, “He educated me. Well, as best as he could considering the circumstances and all. He gave me a ton of books that I could read and study from, but most of it was hands-on training. He tried to teach me all that he could before he died a couple of years ago.”

Joel frowns. “Oh. Sorry to hear ‘bout your dad.”

“It’s alright. You don’t have to be sorry.”

He peers at you, wondering what had happened to him. 

“He died of illness,” you tell him, as if having read his mind. “Cancer, we think it was, but we obviously can’t know for sure without proper testing. And before you say it again, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head at him as you change the subject and ask, “So, how are you settling in?”

“S’been alright, I reckon. Real different from what I’m used to—from what we’re both used to,” Joel answers, referring to Ellie.

“I can imagine it is. It took me a while to get used to this place when I first got here too. It’s such a different way of life, especially when you lived under FEDRA control for so long,” you empathize with him, sighing as you drop your arms back down at your sides. “You stay just a couple of houses down from Tommy and Maria, right?”

“Yeah, we’re two doors down in the brown and greenish lookin’ unit.”

“I’m in the light blue and white cottage right across from them,” you inform him, your pretty eyes twinkling as you give him a smile. “I guess that kind of makes us neighbors, doesn’t it?”

Joel’s stomach somersaults.

If you didn’t stop smiling at him like that, there was going to be a problem.

“It does,” he manages to say. Remembering Tommy’s warning from earlier, he decides it would be best for him to leave—and the quicker, the better because he’s beginning to notice how fucking easy it is to fall under your spell. He pushes himself away from the stall door. “I should probably get goin’ now. Got evenin’ patrol,” he says. “Listen, uh, I really appreciate you spendin’ time with Ellie and bein’ so kind to her. Thank you for that.” He gives you a small grateful nod and turns on the heel of his boot to leave the stall.

“Joel?”

He stops dead in his tracks, his back stiffening slightly.

The sound of your soft voice saying his name is sweet like pure, raw honey.

If he isn’t careful, he’ll become addicted to it—he fears he already is.

Swallowing harshly, Joel turns back around to face you. “Yeah?”

“We’re having this big get together tomorrow night in the barn that’s right across the way,” you say, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder. Through the small round window in the stall, he can see the very barn you’re talking about. “We do it every single year on the first day of summer. We do it for the kids more than anything, but everyone comes out.” There’s a subtle hint of shyness to your tone. “I’m not sure if Tommy or Maria have mentioned it to you yet, but there’s going to be a big barbecue, drinks, and even dancing. The whole nine yards.”

Joel has to bite back a small scoff of disbelief. “You serious?”

“Hey, the world might have ended, but people still know how to get down and party,” you joke. You observe the genuinely perplexed look that crosses his face and giggle. “I know it must sound really bizarre. But it’s a lot of fun and it’s a great way to really get to know the folks around here. I think it would be great if you and Ellie both came.”

“Ain’t too sure if it’d be Ellie’s thing. Or mine,” he admits, raking a hand nervously through his hair at the thought.

“You won’t know unless you give it a shot, Joel.” You gift him with another brilliant smile that just about makes his heart stop inside his chest. “Please?”

Joel hardly knows you.

Hell, up until five minutes ago, he hadn’t even known your fucking name—how is it possible that he can’t say no to you? A complete fucking stranger?

He thinks about it. He doesn’t like the idea of having to interact with anyone outside of his patrol duties, but if going to the damn thing means seeing you again, then he’s willing to at the very least give it a shot. 

“Maybe we’ll both stop by for a bit and check it out,” he finally replies, exhaling a sigh of defeat.

“Great!” You beam happily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Joel repeats, giving you one last nod before turning and leaving the stall.

As he leaves the stables and heads home, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards at the mere thought of seeing you tomorrow night. 

Shit.

Yeah, he’s in fucking trouble. 

[midnight-els]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the West Wing would have been even better if they'd had a White House cat. Some headcanons bc I was thinking about it today:

Jed gave the cat a very grand, biblical name. Everyone else has shortened it to something very stupid.

Obviously all of the press and the public adore the cat. There's a minor upset in a polling themed episode when Joey confirms that once again the cat has higher approval ratings than the president. Josh is cross that they are polling on this at all.

There is one chair in the Oval Office that is The Cat's Chair. The staff know not to sit there as you'll get a. covered in fur and b. screamed at by an irate cat trying to force you off. They never warn any of their least favourite congresspeople about this.

The cat wanders around in the background of episodes, often being chased or petted by the extras.

The cat is not allowed in the situation room. The cat is always in the situation room. They had to come up with a special bug detecting protocol for the cat in case anyone tried to take advantage of this.

Ripped from the headlines plot about a congressional investigation into something related to the cat, based on the incident about Clinton's cat's postage.

The cat LOVES Air Force One. The Secret Service do not love having to get him on board or captured to get back off.

Leo and the cat are best friends. They're basically this meme. Leo's the grandma. Jed is the mom.

Aside from Leo, the cat loves the secretaries best. They always have lots of treats for him in their desks. Debbie is the only one he doesn't get on with; she has resorted to using a plant mister to spray him when he tries to get on her desk.

Josh thinks he and the cat are archenemies. The cat hasn't paid more than 2 seconds notice to Josh in his life.

CJ and the cat are archenemies. CJ was very pro-cat until she caught it fishing in Gail's bowl one day. Now she's at war to keep it out of her office. She's still trying to convince Danny to write a piece exposing the cat's dark side to its adoring public. Carol is very tired.

Sam wants so badly to be best friends with the cat. The cat thinks he's trying too hard. Will ends up exactly the same way.

Toby and the cat have never properly interacted and both are very happy to leave it that way.

The cat is supposed to stay in the residence during big events. Abbey stopped enforcing that after he got out and scratched Lord John Marbury when he picked him up against his will.

The cat has a secret service code name. One time, the code names are changed and an overenthusiatic reporter tries to break a story on the first lady's 'unusual activity' by following what he thinks is her code name. It's the cat's. CJ dines out on this for weeks.

The cat occasionally goes missing. The secretaries and Charlie have a recurring B-plot where they have to go and recover him. Somehow, the cat has always ended up somewhere relevant to the A-plot.

The cat properly goes missing after the incidents with the Thanksgiving turkeys and the goat in CJ's office (aka prime cat territory). Each time she claims she'll be nicer to the cat when it returns. Each time it lasts about two days.

Margaret thinks the cat has psychic powers and frequently provides warnings based on her interpretations of 'the signs'. Usually she's right.

The cat somehow makes off with the final edits for the state of the union one time (of course they were only handwritten on one piece of paper). Chaos ensues.

Jed tries to send the cat to Manchester partway through the series. After large-scale outcry from the staff, press and public he is returned to the White House. Unfortunately, after a couple of months as a barn cat he is even more badly behaved than before.

The cat is in both Jed and Abbey's official portraits.

[asleepinawell]

since i tempted a decent handful of my followers into fallen london i decided as recompense to make a guide/hints/tips thing to a few early on things that might not be as easy to pick up on. the first couple may be a little more obvious but some of the later ones are more obscure. enjoy, delicious friends!

1) Use Plans!!!! That little bookmark icon on the top right of an action will save it to your plans page so you can easily reference if you can't complete it now. great for remembering what you were doing and how many items you need. extremely good for ambitions

2) Use Your Opportunity Deck. It's easy to get caught up in the making your name stuff, but there's a lot of good and important things in your opportunity deck you can miss out on. Bronze cards often help open little stories even if it's not immediately obvious. You get a ten free actions card once a week in there too

3) Look Through the Social Activities. There's a lot of stuff buried in social activities, some of it not in the most logical places. You can resign from your current profession under send a message to a contact. If a friend sent you a letter to let you boost a skill you have to use it under epistolary matters -> sort through incoming mail. And more.

4) Training Professions. Enquirer, Minor Poet, Pickpocket, Tough. You don't have to do anything with these, they just give you a weekly boost in the associated stat when time the healer rolls around. Once you hit 70 on a stat the profession will no longer boost it and you can resign and pick up a new one for free. After you are a person of some importance you can look into getting a fancier job with more perks.

5) Favourable Circumstances. You may have noticed you get something called favourable circumstances every week with time the healer. This is an item in your inventory under curiosity. Its primary use is to force draw a specific opportunity card. When you're just starting out the best use may be to arrange a meeting with your contacts, which lets you draw a connected card of your choice (like urchins, hell, etc). This lets you get a favor right away so it's good to use it every week.

6) DON'T GO TO POLYTHREME. Look, I know the option is right there in the docks but it is a very confusing area and not that useful at low levels. I got stuck there once early on and may be slightly traumatized. Definitely go there later, maybe when you have your own ship and get the map for it.

7) Mrs Chapmans Boarding House. This is in Spite. The options there all give you a few of a resource that's often a pain in the ass to grind other ways. The amount scales with your base watchful. It is just a nice little free way to get some resources. The items available change every week on a four week rotation. See the season in soup guide on the wiki for more info.

8) Mr Chimes Grand Clearing Out Activities. This was an event that happened in the past but left behind a few activities that are unparalleled ways to gain some resources. These are: Descend to the Underclay Quarter in Spite, The Spider Symposium (head into the cellars) in the Singing Mandrake, Seeking Documents in the Sunken Embassy in Moloch Street, Hunt Bees in the University, Brawl with Dockers in the Blind Helmsman (not sure if the was part of mr chimes but the mechanics are similar), and LB Industries in the Blind Helmsman. They all work by gathering a certain amount of some item through the storylets and then handing it in for a resource reward. You generally get one nice reward and the rest is paid out in a low level resource, making it a decent grind for echoes as well (i use moloch st for that).

9) Expedition Supplies for your base camp. Descend to the Underclay Quarter mentioned in the point above is a fast way to get strong backed labor to cash in for supplies during your watchful making your name (and after). Go there, work with unfinished men, get 50 convincing falsehoods (the second option gives you 25 a pop) and send an unfinished man to spite for labor x3. This makes watchful myk so so much easier.

10) Buy Gear. All resources have a use so don't go spending them all like crazy, but it really is worth spending some to buy gear, yes, even +2 gear because if you have +2 in every slot that is a nice boost at a low level. Holiday events are also a great way to get a ton of very good free gear.

11) CP. Change points, basically XP. You need as much CP as the next level to reach that level. So you need 3CP to get to level 3, 4CP for level 4, etc (this caps at 70). You get more CP for succeeding in things that you have a lower chance of success for. 60-90% chances are a nice range to aim for. Also! You get CP for failing which also scales with your percentage chance of success. So if you have a 0% chance of success you may get way more CP than succeeding on something you had a high chance of success for (example: a 90% success gives you 2CP, a 0% failure gives you 4CP... this is why the weasel of woe is good).

12) What are the Bizarre/Dreaded/Respectable stats on gear used for? So you may have noticed that you sometimes get points of Making Waves. Once you become a person of some importance you have the ability to cash in making waves to get a stat called Notability. Notability can be used for getting advanced professions, upgraded lodgings, and more. BDR gear lowers the amount of making waves you need per level of notability. They're also used in checks later on much the way your base stats are and they have uses at the bone market when you get there. Basically, grab gear with them if you can but don't worry too much about how it all works now. It will make more sense when you get there.

13) Cross-Conversion Carousel. This is a slightly more advanced thing that you don't need to know about yet but can be very very useful even at low levels. You know how you can click on most resources in your inventory and combine a lot of low level ones into a few high level ones? There's a bunch you can also cross convert, meaning convert to a different category of item of the same level. These are: brilliant souls, tales of terror, compromising documents, memories of light, zee ztories, strangling willow absinthe, whisper-satin scrap, journal of infamy, correspondence plaques, mysteries of the elder continent, incendiary gossip, and memories of distant shores. You need 50 of one to convert it and you get 51 of the item you convert it to.

What this means is if you have 50 of ANY of these, you can turn it into 50 of any other by converting it around the loop until you get the one you need. This often saves you from having to grind items that can be annoying to get (mrs chapman gives several of these too to help you get the initial amount). ALSO if you notice some of the conversions give making waves which can be a decent way to grind them. See the wiki page here for more info.

14) Last but definitely not least: the wiki is your best friend. It has guides for everything. It tells you what every single action does. It tells you where to find resources. It has terrifying math graphs. Use it. Love it.

And there is also the fifth city wiki which has lore on it. It contains MASSIVE spoilers, but the lore of fallen london is obscure and spread out across multiple games now so sometimes you just wanna know wtf everyone is talking about.

15) Don't Look In Wells!!!!!!! Just. Do not. (Hunters Keep well is an exception. It is a very nice well).

[desertleviathan]

I've included every Job I've heard people mention as speculation, no matter how unlikely I personally find it. Propaganda after the cut is all just my own feelings, and includes some very minor spoilers for recent MSQ events, Astrologian Job Quests, and the Shadowbringers patch 5.3 Dungeon:

CALCULATOR PROS: They have had some fun with Math Bosses, haven't they. It is a theme present in the game, and with precedent in earlier FF games. CONS: I can not imagine any configuration of this job that would function within the timing of FFXIV's combat. Applying simple Astrologian buffs is already tricky enough. Also, this was a real balance-demolisher in its main prior appearance.

GAMBLER PROS: FFVI has proven fertile ground for Job design concepts, between the Monk and Machinist revamps. And Setzer's armor is already in the game. CONS: Even more RNG dependent than Dancer? I don't much like the sound of that. And Astrologian has already claimed Cards as a primary tool.

GEOMANCER PROS: It canonically exists in setting. And it is on the dwindling list of Jobs in FFXI that haven't been reinterpreted in FFXIV. Probably a pretty strong contender, except... CONS: The Astrologian quests kind of ate its lunch, explicitly stating that they are heavily overlapping arts. That will be a common theme with entries on this list, Astrologian seems to be made of pieces of a ton of prior Mage jobs.

GREEN MAGE PROS: The presumptive favorite in most of the chatter I'm reading, because of a symbol on a thing in a very "we're teasing new content" feeling MSQ cutscene that matches the design of Green Mage in one of the Tactics games (I think?) CONS: Ok great but what the heck even is a Green Mage? Their whole shtick appears to be long-duration buffs and debuffs that would have been categorized as Black or White Magic in other games... and FFXIV has been very steadily removing those kinds of powers, aside from a handful of DoTs. If they crib this aesthetic, the actual mechanics will likely be something entirely unanticipated, or possibly overlapping with one of these other options, rather than a Buff/Debuff Mage. Or maybe they've just been removing long duration powers from other classes to... consolidate them? I really doubt it, but maybe.

NECROMANCER PROS: It's a solid concept, an RPG classic, and the Necromancer Boss in the Heroes' Gauntlet dungeon looks sick. Rumor has it that all the bosses in that dungeon were concepts once considered as alternate branches of base classes in the same way Arcanist splits into Scholar and Summoner, before they ditched that design. In which case it probably would have split from Thaumaturge? CONS: Rumor also has it that cultural considerations in certain key markets made this something SE didn't want to pose as a heroic archetype. Also, pet jobs. They've been pretty steadily gutting the pet mechanics of Scholar and Summoner, and I can't imagine they'd be in any hurry to add another full scale Pet Job. Maybe a Limited Job though. Also, in FFXIV the art to animate and control the dead seems to be closely related to the summoning of Voidsent, and Reaper is already doing the Demon Magic thing in a big way.

ORACLE PROS: I'm gonna be real with y'all, can't actually think of any. I see this as having zero chance. But the name keeps coming up in conversation. So maybe I'm wrong, and the apparent fan support will keep the idea afloat. CONS: Like Green Mage, it's mainly been a place to dump debuffs that originally belonged to other magic types. And the theme of prediction and prophecy has been thoroughly raided by Astrologian.

PICTOMANCER (A.K.A. Artist, Painter, Ink Mage, etc.) PROS: As I mentioned under Gambler, raiding FFVI has been a solid move, and Relm Arrowny's power set deserves a less-buggy reinterpretation. Also Ink Mages are the only common enemy in the Heroes' Gauntlet that doesn't match a job we have available. Also Yoshi P's TMNT shirt at the first fanfest may have been hinting at Leonardo's dual swords and a Ninja's scouting armor sets for Viper, but it could also have been a reference to the Renaissance Masters that the Turtles were named after. He's clever like that. CONS: The only reason this isn't my #1 guess without hesitation is that pesky Green Mage emblem. I have a theory though that Green Mage and Pictomancer might get combined and have the "green" be about painting landscapes, in which case it might also be borrowing from Geomancer turf a little. Who knows!

PUPPETMASTER PROS: Also on the short list of FFXI jobs that haven't been reinterpreted. Mammets are a big part of this setting and there would be a lot of cool aesthetics to potentially draw on. CONS: Pet jobs. I just can't see them ever doing another full Pet Job. Also the FFXI version was a blend of technology and martial arts, not a caster per se.

TIME MAGE PROS: One of the missing FF classics, with a lot more potential spells than you expect, since it also usually deals with Space Magic. CONS: Haste powers and traits became a huge balance headache in FFXI and I can't see them rushing back into that. Also, once again, Astrologian already swiped several key ideas.

[leportraitducadavre]

Do you think people in the fandom would be more forgiving towards Sasuke character as a whole if we got the show from his perspective or if not that then if his thoughts are more shown?

I find myself drawn to his character because, in many ways, I see reflections of my own inclinations, albeit magnified. The tumultuous events that unfolded within his clan and the devastating actions of his brother, wiping out everyone, add a layer of complexity to his character. It's kind of intrigued me to consider that, under similar circumstances, I might make similar choices, perhaps even worse. The Narutoverse, with its deeply rooted issues like child soldiers, clan annihilation, and internal slavery within the Hyuga branch, presents a grim reality. While some characters, and even elements of the fandom, criticize and reject his actions, arguing that trauma should not be an excuse, it's hard to ignore the systemic problems within the Narutoverse itself. The pervasive cycle of suffering, with clans being wiped out and individuals enslaved, points to a broken system that breeds villains and antagonists seeking change.

In contrast to the complacency and cooperation displayed by many characters, those who rebel against the established order and strive for something different, flawed as their execution may be, at least attempt to address the root issues. The fact that they are trying to break free from the oppressive system suggests a level of agency and resistance, even if I may not fully agree with their methods. That's why I'm more forgiving towards the antagantis like Pain, Madara and especially in Sasuke case.

Reflecting on Naruto's journey and his current achievements the fundamental issues persist unchanged.

Also, sorry if this got long I ramble a lot when discussing lol. I hope you have a good day.

Hello, this took long to reply, and for that, I apologize.

I don’t think the issue is “not having Sasuke’s thoughts on display” for him to get sympathy, as we get to see firsthand the reasoning behind his actions, his background, and connections; we also get to see the atrocities committed by the system on multiple characters including those that the fandom takes as “less controversial” and which are considered victims of a bigger scale than Sasuke. I put more blame on the naturalization of state-sanctioned violence and the oppression of minority groups who are then blamed for their village’s actions as they are “savage-coded,” which turns the government’s oppression into a response to their behavior rather than an action born from their own bias. Their ultimate argument always boils down to “fighting violence with violence is not the way,” yet they fail to understand that a government built with brutality as its primary basis and as its primary tool leaves no room for negotiations, as it also implies that those oppressed continue to be oppressed until a “solution” is reached through time. They blame those discriminated against and later on massacred for their demise and not those in power who decided that committing genocide was a plausible solution to their dispute. 

The main issue with the idea that “their hearts are in the right place, but I don’t agree with the antagonist methods” also derives from this same perspective, where the discriminated must take all the consequences of the persecution they suffered and choose the “moral high ground” still to keep being “victims” and not become “victimizers.” Their categorization as innocents/savages is always based upon their response to the mass killing of their kin, minimizing the actions of those in power and diminishing the value of their critics to the system in place. 

Yet, while the naturalization of state-sanctioned violence plays a part in Sasuke’s status as a “villain” by many of his detractors, it’s not the only one, as many feel Naruto has a similar (perhaps harder) experience with the system in place as he was ostracized, yet he chose to follow Konoha’s WoF –many fans are closer to experience something similar to Naruto (an unpopular kid that was often shunned by comrades), so they feel more inclined to stand behind a character that reflects a personal experience of them, and not behind the boy who suffered genocide, a thing not many can see themselves in nor can build sympathy for as they (again) naturalized such occurrence. 

The popularization of the action genre featuring first-world soldiers invading the global south, whose focus is more on the trauma that lingers in the invader for trying to bring peace than on the indiscriminate killing of minorities, also contributes to seeing those in power as more humane or deserving of redemption than those responding violently against the intruders, because those invaded should put their trust in the “good intentions” of those abiding by the system that destroyed them in the first place.

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

The Prettiest Star

i started writing this last night but finished it today so it’s kind of both Song-fic Saturday and Smutty Sunday for my 250 Followers Writing Event

Song-fic Saturday 🎶 song: The Prettiest Star by David Bowie

pairing: Sirius Black x plus size! reader 

tags / warnings: NSFW (minors do not interact!), smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, oral, p in v (unprotected — use condoms y’all, this is fantasy), fem!reader, plus size! reader, reader insecurities about her weight, body positivity, non-magical au (couldn’t have them just apparating out of the rain, right?)

notes: i’m a huge music fan and love Bowie and have been listening to Aladdin Sane a lot because it’s just had its 50th anniversary, so hence the song inspiration (“The Prettiest Star”)

word count: 8.1k (yike, please enjoy)

“Does this look too tight?” you ask Lily as you look at your reflection in your favourite jumper, tugging it down repeatedly. You’ve never been particularly thin, but you’d gained a noticeable amount recently, and it was increasingly making getting dressed the worst part of your day. “It looks fine, Y/N,” she says, a bit dismissively, then catches herself (and the look on your face), and adds, “Really. You look beautiful. Don’t ever let the scale tell you different,” giving you a warm smile. It was the “right” thing to say, perhaps, and you were grateful for what a sweet friend she always was to you, truly, but it didn’t make you feel any better. And… if you were brutally honest, it kind of annoyed you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, and the feeling made you feel guilty on top of everything else. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact, she was just genuinely trying to help, or perhaps even just genuine in what she said. But somehow, when it came to any comments on your body — especially specifically about your weight, negative or positive, you grew irritable even more than uncomfortable. You felt as if no one understood the mix of self-consciousness and self-confidence that you felt. As if everyone projected either how they felt about themselves or how they assumed all fat people felt onto you. Worse, you felt that you could never express your true feelings to anyone. Even when you tried, things came out muddled, or things you said were directly contradictory — yet equally true. It couldn’t possibly be that no one else felt contradictory things about themselves, about their bodies, could it? Were you just shit at articulating your feelings, or were your feelings that atypical? 

You opt to keep the jumper on even though it hugged your chest a bit more tightly than usual. A twinge of regret went through you at the thought that usually winter was your favourite time in terms of fashion in general and your wardrobe specifically. You loved your winter clothes and winter aesthetics overall. You really didn’t want to let a little weight gain get in the way of that, but it had a way of making itself known no matter how much you tried to avoid it. 

On cue, it whispers in your head, “You probably only like winter clothes more because they cover more of you. None of those pretty sundresses Lily, Marlene, Mary, or Dorcas wear ever fit you. Not to mention any summer outfit that involves no bra or a visible bralette - not a chance.”  You shake your head at yourself, trying to convince yourself that comfort was a complicated thing, that you didn’t have to overanalyze everything in such an accusatory way.  

You finish getting ready and head to the pub with Lily to meet the others. Remus and James greet you, and James can’t say enough times how lovely Lily looks. It makes you happy for them, two of your best friends so in love, but you can’t help but feel a little funny, a little longing at the lack of those comments ever made about you. 

The thing is, you didn’t dislike yourself. In fact, there were many times you genuinely thought you were beautiful, or that you wouldn’t trade yourself for anyone else. But those thoughts came more easily when you were alone, and not wanting to be anyone else did not include not wanting to be yourself, minus a bit here or there. 

You feel a pair of arms come around your middle from behind you, and there’s no time to be freaked out because you immediately know who it is. It’s like a sixth sense. Sure, you recognize his intoxicating smell, can feel and hear the texture of his characteristic leather jacket, but there’s more to it. Before you even consciously register these things or hear him whisper in your ear, you know it’s him. Sirius. Your best friend in the entire world. “Hello, darling girl,” he greets.  “How is my finest friend on this finest of evenings?” 

“Hi, Siri,” you smile, leaning back into him. “I’m alright; you?” You turn your head up to look at him. “Just alright? Oh, we need to remedy that, love. Urgently.” He looks around a bit, registering your other friends, sharing greetings here and there. “D’you have a drink yet? Let’s go get one, yeah?” he asks, unwinding his arms from his hug but leaving one around your shoulders, where it stays as you walk over to the bar together. 

“You’re good then?” you ask again, giggling a bit - sometimes it was as if you couldn’t help it; his presence made you giddy. “Me? Oh, I’m wonderful. I’ve been having the greatest hair day, which is truly saying something, and now I’m with you,” he squeezes your shoulder a bit, “What else could I possibly ask for?” 

You roll your eyes, your smile never fading, wrap your arm around his waist, and say, “Two rum and cokes, maybe?” You nod toward the bartender. “You always have better luck getting their attention than I do. It’s like they only see the attractive girls, honestly.” 

Comments like these came easily to you when you were around people you trusted. It was strange; they weren’t really intended as self-deprecating. And you weren’t fishing for compliments either, especially not with your closest friends. Part of you wanted to be able to make comments like that freely, to not have to censor your thoughts and feelings when it came to your appearance, thinking that such things really shouldn’t be taboo in the first place, and especially not with people you loved. The other part, well, you weren’t so sure what the other part wanted. 

“You’re attractive,” Sirius responds, matter-of-factly, your heart rushing a little at the sound of it. You knew you had feelings for him, had for ages and had no use in denying it, but there was also the lack of pity in his comment. He never treated you as fragile; his voice never took on the tone of a motivational poster. “Maybe not to everyone,” he adds candidly, “but no one is attractive to everyone. And,” he pauses, looking down at you conspiratorially, “a lot of people have shit taste anyway.” He pauses again, considering you intently. Then something shifts in his expression, and he adds, speaking more quickly than before, “I mean, not everyone likes Bowie, for example. Bowie, Y/N, Bowie. Why should we ever put stock in what other people think if some of those people can’t see - or hear or whatever - beauty when it’s right in front of them?”

You grin but shoot back, “You’re attractive to everyone.”

Raising his eyebrows, looking straight into your eyes, he responds, “Does that include you then?” A careless group of girls bumping into you saves you from having to decide how much of a joking tone to put on your response. You didn’t find Sirius attractive. You found Sirius the most beautiful person you’d ever met, in senses that went far beyond his impeccable hair, his striking grey eyes, his pronounced cheekbones. 

He holds you closer protectively at the jostling crowd, turns to ask for your drinks, and begins absentmindedly stroking your shoulder as he does so. 

“No wonder you always wear this,” he says, pinching your jumper, “It’s so bloody soft.” 

You had no idea he ever remembered or even noticed what you wore. Marlene, sure. Marlene was making a statement every time she stepped out of the house. And her face and body punctuated that statement with a big exclamation mark. But you? You hardly ever got that kind of attention. Maybe a “nice shirt” when you wore a particularly fun pattern, but that was about it. 

You notice him looking at your torso as he says this and swear his eyes linger on your chest. You’re worrying he can tell it’s tighter than usual, so you tug at the hem, but when he looks quickly away, you try not to make too much of it. 

You’re having loads of fun with your friends, swapping stories, sharing shots, occasionally shouting the lyrics to the good songs that come on. You and Sirius — who’s standing next you, his arm perpetually around you, much to the dismay of the many girls and few guys who come flirting — have a habit of turning to each other every time a new song comes on, deciding in unison whether it’s a good or bad one. The very occasional disagreement yields the most fun arguments, always along the lines of “You think this isn’t rubbish? You’re making me question our entire friendship here, love. I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.” (Sirius) or “Oh, come on.  This sounds exactly like every other song in the genre but mediocre. Not everything has to be original, but it’d be nice if it weren’t typical and trash.” (You) 

Then some new Bowie comes on. And Sirius looks as though he’s just received the greatest news of his life. 

Cold fire, you’ve got everything but cold fire / You will be my rest and peace child, rings out Bowie’s electric voice. “Come dance with me!” Sirius bursts at you, hardly asking, dragging you by the hand to where a few (mostly quite drunk) people were dancing. He’s holding both your hands, and you’re moving together organically, falling into a languid rhythm with each other and the song. By the next line, Sirius is singing along, and as he sings with Bowie, “I moved up to take a place… Near you,” he shuffles closer to you seductively, looking nowhere but into your eyes as he places your hand on his shoulder and moves his own to your hip.

He’s theatrical with every lyric, each of which he knows by heart; “So tired,” he swoons; “It’s the sky that makes you feel tried,” he belts looking up toward the ceiling; “It’s a trick to make you see wide,” his eyes come back to yours, open wide and full of mirth; “It can all but break your heart…,” he steps closer to you again;  “… In pieces,” he swoons again, this time onto your shoulder, leaning on you and holding you close. You’re too busy laughing both with and at him to be able to sing along yourself.

“Staying back in your memory… Are the movies in the past,” he continues, acting less and dancing smoothly with you, spinning you around and catching you close afterward.

He’s staring into your eyes, his face very close to yours as he sings, much more softly now, swaying slowly more than dancing, “How you moved is all it takes… to sing a song of when I loved… the prettiest star.” His hands squeeze you as he says those last three words. 

He gives you another playful spin and goes on, “One day… though it might as well be someday… you and I will rise up all the way… all because of what you are…” Then, for the first time in the whole song, he and Bowie don’t synchronize. As Bowie finishes the line over the speakers, “the prettiest star,” you distinctly hear — and see, since his lips are so close to you after all — Sirius finish, “my prettiest star.” 

The rest of the world has all melted away by this point; all that’s left is Sirius; all you can hear is the song, his voice, your frantic heartbeat in your ears. His hand comes to your face, caressing your cheek then resting there.

You have no idea how to react. Sirius flirted with you often. But Sirius flirted with everyone often. It was just a quirk of his personality. And Sirius touched you often. But it was never this gentle, this intimate. You don’t want to get your hopes up. Because as much as — or perhaps because of how much — you love him, you can’t really believe he’d see you that way. You’ve let yourself entertain the idea many times, sure, even suspected from time to time over the years of your friendship that maybe just maybe your desire was mutual, but ultimately, your fears and doubts — doubled every time a girl half your size who could so easily be on any billboard flirted with Sirius — would win out and push those thoughts and feelings down. 

Your rhythmic swaying, your prolonged eye contact, your bursting heart and muddled mind continued through the end of the song. Though you knew it must have been about a minute and a half, it had felt like hours, time expanded by both bliss and trepidation, by the time the music changed and you broke apart. As you do, Sirius just watches you, as if searching for something. 

You’re fidgeting with the sleeves of your jumper when you whisper, “That was fun,” and give him a quick hug, not letting yourself linger and pulling back before his arms were comfortably around you.

You have plans with Sirius the next day, and as you’re getting ready, you can’t help but remember back to his comment on your jumper last night, more worried at your appearance now that you think he noticed it more than you did before. You’re standing in your room in just your underwear stressing out over what to wear. You’ve put on your best bra, the one that does the most to help your figure without being too uncomfortable, and you’ve made a mess of your knickers drawer looking for a clean pair of high-waisted ones. 

There was a time you would’ve avoided looking in the mirror at this stage, but now, you stand in front of it and give yourself a serious look. You suck your stomach in, and pull a bit with your hands on your hips, then let it all go, contemplating the difference. You turn to your profile, admiring the curves of your chest and your arse, but wishing there was less of your thighs immediately after. Arching your back and grabbing your arse, you wonder whether anyone — you close your eyes and admit to yourself: no, not anyone, Sirius — whether Sirius would find this, would find you attractive. As you take a deep breath, you lament how thinking of others’ opinions always made it so much harder to look at yourself with loving eyes. You didn’t hate your body, but your frequent worries that others would brought you down on more days than you wanted to admit. 

You put on your favorite jeans, but as you go to choose a top, you remember one you’d borrowed from Lily a few months ago that had looked good. It was quite loose on her and a bit tight on you, but you each pulled it off differently. You ask her for it, and she happily obliges, but when you put it on, a knot turns in your stomach. It’s way too tight. The pattern is stretched; your boobs look huge; it somehow brings out rather than covers the fat on your sides. Taking it off in a hurry, you have to take another long, calming breath to keep tears of frustration at bay. 

After finally finding something of yours that worked, giving the top back to Lily with a quick “Thanks, but it didn’t look as good as last time,” and giving yourself too many “final” glances in the mirror, you bundle up as you head into the windy afternoon.

You meet Sirius at the record shop near his flat. You see him before he sees you. He’s browsing the racks, and per usual, he looks effortlessly cool and unreasonably attractive. His long fingers are accentuated by his several silver rings as he flips through the records. He pushes his long hair out of his eyes in a careless gesture, and you’re almost angry at how it falls so perfectly he might as well have just spent an hour in front of a mirror. 

You’re approaching him when a cute girl in a hot crop top walks up to him. She steps closer to him than any normal interaction would warrant. “Anything I can help you find, handsome?” she asks, and you wonder whether you’re imagining the twinge of a double meaning in the question. Maybe she’s just a flirty person doing her job. “We have a few special ones in the stock room I could show you…” Nope, not just doing her job. “Thanks, sweetheart, but I’m waiting for someone.” As he looks away from her back toward the records, he catches you in his peripherals. He smiles a beaming smile at you and gestures you over. 

“You’re not going to believe what I found,” he begins enthusiastically. You hug; it lingers, and he squeezes you lovingly. “Mm, you smell nice,” he adds, as if it’s a normal thing to say. Is it a normal thing to say? Maybe it is. Maybe you’re overthinking, especially after the moment you shared last night.

“Thanks, new shampoo. What’d you find?” You look toward the records to ease the tension you were probably creating. 

“Check this out.” If he noticed any awkwardness, he definitely doesn’t show it. He pulls out a record you had recently had a long conversation about. 

“Brilliant!” you react, snatching it from him and turning it over in your hands, reading its contents eagerly. 

He chuckles at you, and if you’d been looking at him instead of the record, you might have seen the accompanying adoring look. 

“I know. It’s our lucky day.” 

You browse around the shop together, chatting easily, both about music and all sorts of random things that came to mind. Talking to Sirius is always easy, always gives you more than the contents of the conversation to hold onto, to fill you up. 

You go to pay, and the girl from earlier is working the till. Sirius goes to the loo, so it’s just you and her when you hand her a couple of records to ring up. 

“Cool choices.” “Thanks.” “Is that your boyfriend?” she asks, nodding behind her toward the toilets. 

“Oh, um,” you stutter. You’re not exactly sure why “no” doesn’t just easily come to your mouth. “I don’t know how you managed it. Lucky bitch,” she half laughs. You’re mortified; you can’t tell for sure, but you think she is trying to be friendly, just in a very strange record-shop-employee, rock and roll kind of way. 

Sirius comes back around, and you hope to hell he hasn’t heard anything. 

“All good, darling?” he asks, putting his arm around you. This wasn’t unusual for him, the nickname, the contact. But you’re already in an uncomfortable headspace, and your first thought is that you hope he isn’t doing it as an act for her benefit. You don’t even know if he’d heard, and your anxiety is taking over anyway. You keep running the woman’s words over in your head. How had she meant it? Did she mean she couldn’t believe you had managed it? As in specific, chubby, you? Or was she just making girly conversation? Would she have said the same to any woman, no matter how attractive, who had come into the shop with Sirius?  

“You alright?” Sirius’s voice breaks you out of your spiraling. You look over at him, and his gaze is gentle but concerned. 

“Yeah, fine, sorry,” you reply quickly. “It’s all good,” he smiles comfortingly at you. 

Once outside the shop, you debate your next move. Normally on weekends when you’d get records, you’d then go eat, then go to his and listen to some of them, sometimes sharing a blunt, sometimes just getting high on the music. 

You’re both looking up into the newly drizzling sky when Sirius says, “How about, we get take-away somewhere close, then just eat at mine? It looks like it’ll get worse soon, but I reckon we can make it before it really starts up.”

“Yeah, great.”

You’ve made it only a few blocks, though, when the rain pours down in sudden torrents. 

“Oh, shit!” he laughingly yells, protecting the records, taking your hand, and sprinting to the nearest protective awning. By the time you make it, you’re both already extremely wet, and the weather is so windy the cover hardly helps in keeping it from getting even worse. 

You’re squeezing as close to the wall as possible, standing chest to chest, the records between you, his arm around your waist, your faces close enough for you to see each individual drop as it travels down his face. His eyes match the sky behind him, and you silently marvel at his beauty. He looks up for a second then is overtaken by heartfelt laughter. 

“Didn’t quite gauge that one right, I guess,” he chuckles. You’re laughing with him when a particularly strong gust blows freezing water forcefully at you, making you gasp and stiffen. 

“Shit,” he laughs. “Let’s make a run for it.” He takes your hand again, and you both jog the few blocks to his flat. 

You’re both still giggly when you step inside, leaving a puddle in the doorway where you stand. You take off your shoes and outer layers, but you’re drenched all the way through. 

“Bloody hell, it’s freezing,” he amusedly complains, stripping down to only his jeans, leaving his clothes in a pile by the door. He hugs himself and rubs his arms, trying to warm up, and you’re glad your soaked demeanour is already such a mess he probably can’t tell how flustered you are by how attractive — and bare — he is. He reaches over to you and rubs your arms like he had been doing his. “Fuck, you’re freezing too. Come to my room, and I’ll lend you something to wear.” Your giddy mood dissipates immediately. There was no way in hell his clothes would fit you. He was obviously leaner than you, and your hips and thighs hadn’t gotten along well with men’s clothes even in your thinnest of states. He’s halfway to his room already, and you’re frozen by the door. “Y/N?” 

You look over. You hope he doesn’t notice your eyes quickly travel his bare torso. “You coming or what?” he keeps on casually. When you get to his room, he’s bringing some towels out of the bathroom and throws you one. You start drying your hair as he rummages in his drawers. “Um,” you start. You sound more nervous than you mean to. He clearly notices because he immediately turns back to look at you to see what’s going on. “What is it?”

 You hate worrying him like this, especially over something so stupid. Why did you always have to make things uncomfortable? Or better yet, why couldn’t you just be a girl who would fit in his clothes. “Hey, what is it?” he repeats, gentler this time, coming over to rest his hands on your shoulders. Your self-deprecating, cruel inner monologue is clearly showing more than you’d hope. “You alright, love?” “Yeah, no, I’m fine, sorry,” you try to laugh it off. “Don’t apologise.” It’s gentle, not scolding. “Just talk to me.” His hands continue rubbing your shoulders lovingly. “Just that I think I’m fine like this is all. Don’t worry about finding stuff for me,” you try. “Don’t be ridiculous; you’ll freeze to death. It’s fine; I don’t mind.” He goes back toward his dresser.

Ugh, how do you say “It’s not about your minding, actually. It’s about my stretching and ruining anything you could possibly lend me” without sounding weird and embarrassing? 

“Thanks. Um, I’m not quite sure anything of yours would fit me though.” “We’ll find something,” he says relaxedly, opening another drawer. “Here, this one is really warm and comfy, and it’ll definitely fit,” he says, tossing you a sweatshirt. You recognize it, have seen him wearing it before. He only ever wore it while lounging at home, and it was quite big on him, so maybe it would be okay. 

“And… uh,” he rummages, “try these. They’re a bit small, but they’re stretchy.” He hands you a pair of sweatpants. You’ve never seen him wear these. They would probably be too big on him. He grabs his towel and some clothes for himself. 

“I’ll go change in the living room. Just come out when you’re ready. Grab whatever you want.” His tone is friendly, at ease. Unlike your feelings. You are freaking out. As soon as he closes the door, you strip down to your knickers, which thankfully aren’t very wet, at top speed, thinking you should hurry in case it takes you time to figure out the clothes. You don’t want to take too long and make things awkward. You towel yourself off and slip on the sweatshirt. It fits fine. It isn’t loose like it is on him, but it doesn’t look too weird. And it is indeed warm and comfy. Now for the more concerning part: you try pulling the pants on, a repeating “please, please, please” playing in your head. Fuck. No luck. They stop a bit above your mid-thigh, and there is no way you’d be able to pull them all the way up. You think of putting your jeans back on, but they are drenched, and it would’ve been like trying to get back into a heavy straight-jacket. You start panicking, unsure what to do, already worrying you are taking too long to come out. You look through his drawers, but all his other bottoms look even smaller. You try just wrapping the towel around your hips, but you look quite strange in the mirror. 

You’re pacing in his room when he knocks. “Y/N? You alright? No rush, really, just making sure everything’s okay?”

You brace yourself, go to the door, and crack it open, hiding your body behind it, just popping your head around. He’s standing there, his wet hair half tied up, a dry t-shirt and sweats on. 

“Um… the sweatpants don’t fit,” you whisper, embarrassed. 

“Oh. Uh, that’s okay. Um, how about…,” he looks around, as if bigger pants would magically materialise somewhere in his living room. “Oh, perfect.” What could possibly be perfect right now? “Your favourite blanket is already on the sofa. How about I turn around, and you can just go get under it, and I’ll hang your trousers on my heater.” 

You nod timidly, the warmth in your cheeks from your embarrassment blazing even hotter at the thought of how sweet he always is to you. 

“Great. Uh, ok,” he chuckles, awkwardly turning around. You scamper to his sofa in your underwear, quickly covering your legs with his big cosy blanket. 

“Ok,” you let out softly. He turns around and looks you over. You can’t tell what’s in his eyes as he does so, but there is an intensity there that you’re not used to. He blinks quickly and gives you a strange, strained smile. He disappears into his room, and you hear him sorting your clothes out to dry. 

You’re fidgeting with the sleeves of his sweatshirt when he returns. 

“You alright? Comfortable?” he asks, seemingly back to normal.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, I didn’t meat to, uh, well, sorry I’m a bit difficult,” you reply a bit awkwardly, not knowing what exactly to apologise for but feeling the need to. “Don’t be ridiculous, love. You have nothing to be sorry for. Really. If you’re okay like this, then we’re all good, right?” You can’t help but worry what will happen as soon as you have to get up. Would you wrap the blanket around yourself like a weirdo?  As if reading your thoughts, Sirius goes on playfully, “I’ll wait on you like royalty so you don’t even have to get up.”  You make an odd half laugh, half relieved exhale sound in response, and he just chuckles. “Starting with…” he fast walks over to the door, grabs the bag of records and brings it back over to the sofa, sitting next to you but not getting under the same blanket like he usually does. “Which do you want to listen to first?” he asks, bringing them all out to look at together. 

As soon as you started discussing it, it’s like waking up from a nightmare, realising all is well and returning to a calm normality. You debate and joke, decide on a record, and he gets up to put it on and make some tea, still chatting casually to you throughout. 

When he’s back on the sofa with you, he looks down, smiles, and says, “Looks better on you than on me.” You tug on the sweatshirt self-consciously, smiling shyly at him.  You fall into your easy rhythm, listening, talking, laughing, and before you knew it, the whole record’s played. Sirius gets up, walking toward his collection rather than the small stack of new records on the table. He picks one easily, and puts it on. The quirky piano of Bowie’s “Time” begins, and your heart speeds up. You love this album. So does Sirius. But this isn’t the first track. It’s the first track on the B-side, and the next song after this, you remember, is “The Prettiest Star,” the song you and Sirius danced to just last night. He doesn’t say anything until he’s seated next to you again. “I know we usually listen from the beginning, but the B-side is better on this one, and I didn’t feel like being patient.” His tone is playful, but there’s a heaviness to it. He glances away from you and leans toward the table to take a sip of his tea. 

“What’s your favourite track?” you ask, smiling. You’ve asked him this question innumerable times over the years, but you’ve never been as excited for his answer as this time, and you have a feeling you know what it’ll be. 

“‘The Prettiest Star,’” he replies immediately, looking toward you again. As quickly as he had, he looks away again as he adds, “Because it reminds me of you… even before last night…” After a beat, he ventures a glance toward you, that same searching look from last night taking over his beautiful features.

Unlike last night, you don’t feel panicked — nervous, sure, but more than that, loved. “Last night felt pretty special,” you say. “Yeah?” He seems hopeful. “Yeah, it was.” His voice is serene, like he’s contemplating something utterly peaceful. “It’s funny, though,” you say, and he looks at you, his eyebrow quirked. “It’s really about you, isn’t it? Not me.” You laugh. He looks like he wants to laugh with you, a twinkle in his eye, clearly happy that you are happy, but confusion holds his expression. You explain, “Well, you’re ‘the prettiest star,’ aren’t you? You’re obviously prettier, the prettiest… and the brightest in the night sky in fact… ‘Sirius.’” You say his name with all the love you feel for him.

He leans toward you, taking your hand. He’s smiling, but there’s a sadness to it. 

“You might not be named for a star, but you’re my prettiest star, Y/N.” He looks into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”  His eyes scan your face. “It’s almost too bright to bear sometimes, to be honest, your beauty,” he adds, smiling more vividly now. He brings his other hand to your face, just as he did last night. But this time, his fingertips begin by taking their time tracing your features: your eyebrow first, your nose, your cheekbone, down to your jaw. His thumb grazes your lip, barely touching it but lingering there, before moving to caress you cheek. “You’re so beautiful, my prettiest star,” he repeats, as the song begins in the background. 

“Sirius,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. 

“Darling girl,” he responds, moving closer to you until your foreheads meet. Your nose nuzzles his, and you stay like this for several seconds. You bring your hand to the crook of his neck, and holding him, you lean forward. The song goes silent, the intro ending, the anticipation built, and right as Bowie’s voice comes in, your lips meet. 

Sirius’s hand slips from the side of your face to the back of your head, holding you firmly, leaning into you hungrily. His hand holding yours goes to your waist, pulling you close to him until your chest is flush with his. You wrap your arms around his neck and slip your fingers into his hair. 

He moans into your mouth, and you deepen the kiss, pushing his tongue with yours, breaching into his mouth. He lets you, and as you explore him, he pulls your body until you find yourself kneeling on the sofa in front of him, the blanket fallen to the floor. 

You pull back momentarily, and he stills his movements, watching you, waiting for your cue for what to do next. His eyes are lidded, his pupils blown, his lips parted, but you know that if you sat back down and told him you just wanted to listen to the record, that’s exactly what he’d do. But that’s not what you want. So, you lean forward and pick up your exploration right where you left it. He groans appreciatively and sucks on your tongue in his mouth, before pulling you on top of him. 

You’re straddling him, and you’re so attracted to him you’re drowning in it, but even still, your nerves are there. You feel heavy. Too heavy to be sitting on top of him like this. He keeps his hands on your waist and strokes your back, not venturing any further down, pulling back to look at you. You shift clumsily, trying to put more of your weight on your knees on the sofa, but not being able to without spreading awkwardly wider or ending up lopsided. He holds you firmly, centering you again, hugging you close. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you whisper, trying to explain what he’s already figured out. 

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him before he says, “Trust me, darling, I’m about as far form uncomfortable as a person can be right now.” He squeezes you lovingly, clearly careful to squeeze all of you and not just any specific place, which might make you uncomfortable. “I’ve been going absolutely mental this whole time just knowing you weren’t wearing anything but your knickers under that blanket.” 

“You have?” you ask, surprised, your eyes wide, your voice soft. He giggles again, always adoring, never mocking. “Fuck, how can someone be so adorable and so sexy at the same time?” It baffles you how someone can say the word “sexy” so seriously and not sound silly at all, give it so much confidence that it just sounds so, well, so sexy. He pecks your lips. “You’re going to kill me, woman.” Now you laugh. 

“Oh?” “Mm,” he groans affirmatively as he runs his hands up your sides and back and kisses you ardently. He moves to your jaw, kissing languidly down to your ear, where he nips playfully and sucks on your neck another moment before looking into your eyes again and saying, “Fuck, Y/N, tell me you want this too.” A kiss. “I’m desperate for you.” Another kiss. “But only if you want me too.” Another kiss, longer this time. “I want to make you feel good, darling. Fuck, I can make you feel so so good.” Your hips grind down on his at his words, and he throws his head back in a lustful groan, and his hands squeeze you tightly where they hold you. He recovers, stroking your back again and resting his forehead on yours as he asks, “Can I touch you, Y/N? I’ll stop anytime you say so, but I’m dying to worship you.” You kiss him deeply, holding him close, grinding your hips down again. “I want you to touch me, Siri.” At this, his mouth immediately devours yours, and his hands come down to squeeze your arse. He kneads it roughly, pulling you into him with each motion, inadvertently pushing his hips up a bit each time to meet yours. You feel the hard, evident bulge in his pants underneath you, and it turns you on even more to feel wanted in such a visceral way. There is no missing how much his body wants yours, and that surprises but arouses you to no end.

His hands come down to your thighs, and you gasp and stiffen a bit. He stops but leaves his hand there, stroking you cautiously. 

“Y/N?” He bumps your nose with his. “I…” You peck his lips. “You really don’t mind my body?” you ask, your voice small. 

“Darling,” he breaks a little. “Mind it? I adore it. Can’t you feel what you do to me?” he half jokes, thrusting up into you. You close your eyes and bite your lower lip at the addictive friction. “Y/N. Look at me, love,” he whispers. You do. “I think you are the most gorgeous, sexiest woman in the world. Of course it’s all intertwined with how much I love you, but that just makes it even better. God, you have no idea how much you turn me on.” He kisses you short but hard. “I never want to tell you how to feel, love, but I just wish you knew how beautiful you are, how you are the most beautiful to me.” You kiss him again and become immersed in it fully. Your tongues are dancing with each other, your hips, your hands, moving in tandem with each other, melting into each other in a perfect push and pull. 

His hands slip under his sweatshirt, and he whispers, “Can I?” You don’t hesitate, entrusting yourself to him, and detaching yourself from him only enough for him to slip it over your head. His hands come to your breasts, and you hear him say “fuck” again as he kneads them and keeps kissing you. His hands keep massaging as his mouth moves down your jaw wetly. He takes his time moving down your body, sucking your neck, licking across your sternum, kissing delicately down to between your breasts. He buries his face there and moans, and it’s so hot you pull him to you and scratch his scalp where you’re holding him by his hair. He kisses there again then his fingers move to pinch your nipples. He mixes pulling it with massaging your whole breast with one hand, but the other just grips your tit as his mouth wraps around your nipple. His tongue licks around it a few times before he sucks on it, and his groan is drowned out by your pleasured yell. 

“Fuck, Sirius,” you say, your voice a rasp. 

“Mmm,” he responds, not letting up, switching breasts after sucking a bit harder. Once he’s satisfied (for now) and your nipples are hard and sore, he grips your tits again with his hands and licks into your mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, you have the most incredible tits.” He squeezes them. “You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of taking your shirt off and touching you.” He goes back down and gives each a quick but delicious suck. “Let’s go to my bed, yeah?” You nod heatedly. 

You’re a bit self-conscious as you move to get off of him, more aware of your body beyond the pleasure again though you had been so lost in it just a moment ago you’d forgotten about everything else. Sirius helps you off and up, his hands on your hips, and he pulls you into him as you both stand, making out with you before squeezing your arse as he pulls away to walk to his bedroom. You wrap your arms around yourself  as you walk with him, but when you’re standing in front of the bed, he takes each of your hands in his and kisses you while holding them, bringing his body flush with yours. You break the contact to pull on his shirt, and he eagerly obliges, removing it and tossing it aside. 

He guides you onto the bed, his body following on top of yours, your mouths connected the whole time. You shuffle up the bed then tug his sweats down when you’re settled. He helps you, shimmying out of them. They get caught on one of his ankles, and you both laugh as he curses and contorts awkwardly to pull them all the way off. 

You’re both left only in your underwear as he starts kissing you again, slowly making his way down your body. He spends a lingering amount of time on your tits again as he goes down then keeps kissing down your stomach to the waistband of your knickers. He looks up at you for any hesitation, but you just bite your lip and lift your hips. He smirks in excitement as he pulls your panties off of you. He does it slowly, teasingly, and he licks down your thigh tracing where the fabric passes. Once they’re off, he pushes your knees a bit further apart and starts kissing and licking his way back up. He sucks at the top of your thigh, and it makes a pop as he separates from you. 

Kneeling between your legs, massaging your thighs on either side of him, he says, “You drive me mad, Y/N. You’re so fucking delicious, I could spend eternity between these thighs.” You squirm at his graphic words, already exceptionally strung out. He chuckles lowly down at you and kisses you quickly before adjusting himself with his head between your thighs. 

“Today really is my lucky day,” he says, face lined up with your cunt. “This is the second time I see you drenched today, and I fucking love being the cause of it this time.” Without further ado, he licks a sopping stripe from your entrance up to your clit.  Even this first motion sounds wet. You’re sure you’ve never been so wet in your life. 

Sirius buries his face in your cunt, groaning as he licks into you then sucks on your lips. He goes back and forth between sucking on you and fucking you with his tongue. He keeps playing with you until you’re squirming before bringing his mouth directly to your clit. He’d grazed it as he licked you before now, bumped you with his nose, teasing you, but now he gives it his full attention. He’s licking and sucking, moaning all the while like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten, moving his whole body with the passion of it, and it takes very little more for you to start cumming on his mouth. You make a yelping sound you’ve never made before in your ecstasy, and with your eyes closed, you feel as if the world is a million miles away; all you feel is your body and where it is connected to Sirius’s.  He keeps up his motions and fervor until your pleasured squirming turns into overstimulation squirming. He gives you one last lick and suck then shuffles up your body, kissing it intermittently as he does, until he’s face to face with you, smiling a smile you’ve never seen before. 

“Hello, darling,” he says, clearly satisfied with himself, kissing you.

“Hi,” you sigh, sounding completely fucked out. He giggles at you and kisses you again. 

“Feel good?” 

“Mmhhmm.” You stretch underneath him and languidly wrap your arms around him, licking his lips slowly before kissing him again. 

“Fuck,” he responds. 

“Yes, please.” Your voice is high, blissful. You rut up into him. He chuckles at you and strokes your hairline, kissing your forehead. 

“You want to? You’re alright?” “Of course, Siri. I’m brilliant.” “That you are, my love,” he beams at you then pushes his pants off. “My prettiest star,” he says, as he pecks your lips then your nose then lines himself up with your entrance. 

His eyes penetrate yours as he pushes into you. You moan in unison, and his mouth lingers just above yours, grazing your lips, your foreheads touching, as he slowly pushes deeper and deeper. When he bottoms out, he kisses you eagerly, stroking his tongue into your mouth as his cock ruts deep inside you. Your hands grip his back. His hands come down to your thighs one at a time, squeezing passionately before pushing your legs up and out, wrapping them around his waist. 

Normally, you’d feel self-conscious in this position. Almost bent in half, your stomach protrudes between the two of you. Your thighs are thick at his sides. But the look on his face, the feel of the movements of his body is all love and adoration and ardor. 

He kisses you as he thrusts a bit harder, keeping it slow at first but vigorously punctuating each thrust. One of his hands rests beside you, holding him up, but the other stayed on your leg, stroking your thigh and gripping your arse or hip bruisingly with each forceful motion of his hips.  

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “You’re fucking perfect.” He thrusts hard, a gentle kiss on your forehead contrasting it seductively, then begins picking up his pace. He rests his face in the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking on it as he pounds repeatedly into you. 

You’re gripping him tightly to stay in position, your arms and legs tense around him. You can’t move much, but his movements are enough for the both of you, especially as he brings his knees up a bit to get a new angle. He’s hitting your spot with almost every thrust, and you’re whining in pleasure in time with each. You squeeze hard around him, not just your arms and legs but the soft walls around his cock as well, and he groans animalistically into your skin. His hips stutter in response, but a moment later he’s pounding rhythmically again. 

His breathing gets heavier, his muscles tighter, and with a broken gasp, he shifts sideways a bit to snake his hand between you to where you’re connected. He rubs harshly on your clit, not bothering to start slow, clearly aware he doesn’t have time for that. His hips piston even faster; his hand presses harder, and a few seconds later, you feel fit to burst. You let out a yell as you release around him, the most intense orgasm of your life making you see white stars. 

“Sirius,” you half yell, half sigh. “I’m gonna cum, baby. Fuck, fuck. Where do you want me to?” he rushes out, his hips still moving fast in and out of you. You tighten your legs around him, and clench your cunt, pulling him into you. “Inside, Siri. Cum in me.” His immediate groan sounds strangled as you feel the warmth of him inside you. The words “cold fire” play in your mind. He thrusts a few more times then goes limp on top of you, panting loudly, kissing your neck and cheek between heavy breaths. 

He rolls off but stays close, never fully breaking contact with you, and he wraps his arm around your waist, lightly stroking your back, as you both lie on your sides facing each other. You feel the urge to cover yourself up but resist it, trying to melt into the vulnerability. The utter adoration in his eyes when you look into them helps. 

“I love you,” you whisper. He smiles a smile that makes his stormy eyes shine, leans in, and kisses you tenderly. 

“And I love you,” he says matter-of-factly, his voice smooth and sappy. 

You pause, contemplating, reveling in the joy of the moment but unable to ignore a tug in your stomach. “I’m sorry I was too… I don’t know, scared? to really show you before.”

“Don’t be, darling. I’m sorry I waited so long to really show you too, but I’m even more sorry if I ever made you doubt how much I do, how loved you are.” “You didn’t.” You shake your head then nuzzle his nose with yours. “I just sometimes didn’t understand. It’s confusing, how someone like you can love someone like me so much.” “Darling. It’s the least confusing thing in the world. You’re the most beautiful person I know. In all kinds of ways. And I’ll show you every day you’ll have me; you’ll see it clearly too; I’m sure of it. I’m just worried when you do, you’ll realise the real wonder is you loving me.” He laughs a bit, but you can hear the truth to his concern, his own insecurities surfacing. 

You stroke his cheek, kiss him, and say, “We’ll both keep showing each other then. For always.” His smile is subtle, full of love. 

He nods, kisses you again, pulls you into his body, and, hugging you close, repeats, “For always.” 

P.S. notes: I try to keep my reader character inclusive, and this is a bit more specific than I usually do. I just want to acknowledge that everyone relates to their bodies, especially if they’re bigger, in different ways, and I in no way think of anything I write as a generalized take on being plus sized (or any other experience really). These are just things that I have felt in my life, and it has always meant a lot to me to see and hear stories about bigger characters, both when attention is brought to that specific aspect about them and when it isn’t. So, this is my way of adding to that and to write something for myself in that vein. 

[idontblushsrry]

Request Headcanon

nuttymouthful asked:  Uhh may I make a request for Ouran High School Host club? Just a headcanon for how the host would react to meeting someone how is a big time animal lover. (Like they pretty much live there life like the Irwin family)

A/N: I was thinking about how I’d write this and my brain just went ‘they lost their shit at the sight of instant coffee’, so uhh I hope this is to your liking. I tried to get as much animal variety as I could even though I didn’t really touch on marine animals that much)

Warnings: Like 2 swear words (pinky promise), slight drug mention(literally so small you might not even notice it), spoilers (minor) for Tamaki’s mom

Word Count: 1292

General

So this is under the assumption that like the Irwin family, Reader (or their family) has access to a wide variety of animals (from domestic to wild)

All of them respect the passion you have for animals

While they all might have various feelings on animals (see below), they can’t deny that you truly do love animals

Your family’s sanctuary focuses on healing injured animals and rehabilitating them so they can go back into the wild

Of course, your family has many sanctuaries around the world and some focus more on conservation while others focus on research 

The one closest to the school focuses mainly on conservation and as such, is massive and functions like a zoo ( in terms of having people come in and see the animals)

Anyways, the host club is very supportive and often helps you with organizing donation events

Oftentimes, your family will collaborate with them and allow them to rent out parts of the conservation center for events

Aside from the conservation center though, your family owns a few ranches and farms (not for commercial profit, although yall have sold a few animals)

The farms and ranches are relatively small scale but they make great venues for the host club and a great place for getaways/vacations

Your main house is where you keep most of your favorite animals

You have an aviary attached to your room (connected through a hallway that connects to your room) as well as a butterfly garden in the backyard

You also have an aquarium tank, 2 dogs, 1 cat, 1 snake, and a hamster that visits on weekends

You had to be stopped at some point

Tamaki

Tamaki loves animals

He was never really around animals growing up because of how sensitive his mom’s immune system is

So when he sees that you’re an animal person, he’s super excited

Like this man is already planning playdates between Antoinette and your pets/animals

You love his enthusiasm, just one small problem

It’s a little too much enthusiasm

Yes the animals are well trained, but how would you react if a 6′0 giant with long arms came barreling towards you screaming showing its teeth? 

So yeah, Tamaki tends to set the animals off/ make them nervous

Because of that he’s only allowed around certain animals (ex. certain monkeys, certain birds, etc.)

He’s happy that he’s allowed around some animals but he still pouts every time there’s an animal he can’t be around

Kyoya

This man

Kyoya does not fuck with animals. Like at all

The first time the host club went to your house, you were holding a hamster and Kyoya moved back about 10 feet

When you asked him what was wrong, he just said “Rats are carriers of many of the most deadly diseases”

You told him that you were holding a hamster and that while hamsters were rodents, the worst he’d get sick with would be salmonella

He doesn’t believe you, but yeah sure whatever

For Kyoya it just gets worse after that

The first time he sees you holding a tarantula, he loses his shit

“Look how cute it is Kyoya!”

“Get that vermin away from me!”

I could go on and on about how much Kyoya doesn’t like animals (even domestic ones like cats and dogs)

He hates going to your house, but he often has to go there in order to set up events for the host club, what a nightmare

While he doesn’t care for animals, the business side of his brain can’t help but think of a marketing opportunity

Mori

Is one of two hosts that are going to be chill about it

He doesn’t feel one way or the other about animals and thinks it’s cool that you’re interested in them

Only thing is; if Honey’s afraid of your animals, he will have to ask you to leave he won’t hesitate to step in “harm’s” way

Surprisingly though, that actually makes him the chillest with your animals

Much to your surprise (and Tamaki’s sorrow), the animals love him

He just has this calming vibe that sets the animals at ease

It also helps that he smells nice and is super tall

For most of them it’s like sitting on a giant tree

He’s not really complaining though, it makes his job of protecting Honey that much easier

Honey

Oh boy

He might actually be the worst with animals

It’s not even an issue of being unable to defend against aggressive animals (Honey could probably solo a grizzly bear)

It’s just he has a very strict “cute” animal policy that changes wildly depending on his mood, the temperature, the angle of the wind, the humidity, etc.

He’s very bougie when it comes to what animals he will tolerate and what animals he will refuse to see

The general safe choices are rabbits (especially bunnies), kittens, cows, tits (the bird species), and baby animals of almost every domestic mammal species)

Him and the hamster you see on weekends are best friends

Also, you have had issues with him trying to feed the animals sweets

Explaining to Honey why rabbits can’t have carrot cake was not an easy conversation, nor was it one you thought you’d need to have 

Because of how specific he is about what animals he finds cute, you likened him to a crocodile (because of how sensitive they are to temp. changes in egg)

Needless to say...he was not pleased

Hikaru

So him and Kaoru don’t really care for animals but they try to relate to you in somewhat similar but different ways

Hikaru is always trying to get you to do/recreate stunts with the animals

“Hey Y/N, we should-”

“No Hikaru”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say”

“No you cannot use the dolphins for hoop tricks, no you cannot teach the gorillas how to roll blunts, no you cannot “bribe” the koalas with eucalyptus...”

Yeah he’s a menace

It’s mostly all in good fun though

Hikaru doesn’t really care for animals but he does find it hilarious that the animals like him more than Tamaki

Also, completely random but Hikaru definitely send you those “horse-sized duck vs duck sized horses” memes

Kaoru

Kaoru also tries to use animals on the internet to relate to you, but he’s a lot tamer than Kaoru

Kaoru is kind of like the parent who learns one thing you like and is like “that’s your entire personality right?”

Poor bby is trying his best

Anyways, whereas Hikaru tries to recreate memes, Kaoru sends you them

They range in quality and format; from top text, bottom text to “is this a ____”

At least once a day, Kaoru will send you a meme or picture of an animal with a caption that says ‘this reminded me of u :)’

It’s so endearing that you can’t even be mad about it

Haruhi

Is the only other one who’s kind of cool about the whole thing

She’s really only been around animals in the park or the occasional pet store

Growing up, she didn’t really have the time (or money) to go to the zoo, that and the fact that Ranka doesn’t care at all for animals (she thinks they’re weird and gross)

When Tamaki hears this, he works himself up into a frenzy, torn that his “daughter” has never been to a zoo (even tho he hasn’t either)

But she likes the fact that you’re so passionate about animals

At heart, she’s a scholar, so she loves learning new things she didn’t know before, she could spend all day just listening to you talk about animals

Not to mention the fact that you’re basically giving her a free informational tour every time you see an animal

[inhuman-obey-me]

If obey me wasnt a otome game what do you think will be different? And it makes me laugh that we are romanticising the devil which just seems so funny. Ik its a game but its just a funny concept

Okay but we love romancing the devil. More games should let us smooch Lucifer/other demon royalty. Please.

But this is a fun thing to think about!

(long game design rambles below the cut)

Even if Obey Me was still a visual novel game but without the romance, there is a lot that could change. We'd have a lot less of the characters vying for the player's attention, meaning the game would also be less prone to gag-type situations and allow for a consistently more serious storyline. It could be something like Twisted Wonderland, where the MC still has a role but it isn't as big nor central to the conflicts and problems of the story, thus playing more of an observer role.

The devs actually mentioned in early videos that when making the game, they had to scale back some of their ideas because they "didn't want it to feel too much like an adventure game" and still focus on the romance since it was a dating sim. Interestingly, Nightbringer seems to be testing the waters on this now and going back to a more dramatic story, so maybe we'll actually get to see that kind of adventure vibe now!

If the game was still following the main points of gathering pacts with the demon brothers...well, maybe we really are just becoming Solomon 2.0 at that point, new title is Solomon Simulator 2023 BC. But really, there would probably be less of MC playing therapist and more letting us have adventures of our own, exploring the world in various ways. Hell, MC might even be living in Purgatory Hall with the other exchange students instead of oddly being the only one put in the House of Lamentation. And this more adventurous theming could also be reflected in events, with more AU themes (Pirates, Spies, Circus, etc) that allow for more fun event storylines that aren't so focused on "romantic" situations and fanservice moments.

Going along with that, we would likely get more character variety in a non-otome game, since it wouldn't be trying to make every character (except Luke) dateable or potentially future-dateable -- less ikemen, more non-male characters, maybe more body diversity! And because there'd be no expectation of romance, you could have more outright hostility too. Maybe Mephisto and Raphael could have actually fulfilled the more aggressive or antagonistic personalities they had been hinted to have! There might also be more of a canonical MC character personality too, since part of the reason it's left more open and vague is to let players self-insert for the romance. This could allow for more narration from MC as well.

Now, if we step away from the Visual Novel style, that could open up a whole new world of possibilities! Imagining OM as more of a fantasy RPG? Super fun thought.

Other characters could potentially be playable, and if so, we could perhaps see more of the characters without MC needing to be in the scene, allowing for more interactions between different characters outside the current format of occasional side/hard-mode stories.

We'd probably get a truer combat system too, even if we were just fighting random minor demons or something like the Little D's in Nightbringer's gameplay. (Apparently the only instruction the team got in making the original game was "it needs dance battles"???) The characters' skills could also be more unique to the characters since it wouldn't have to fit the rhythm/dance game format, so stuff like summoning Lotan could actually be a useful powerful thing instead of just a running gag! In fact, we could see way more powerful magic from all the characters, which would be great since OM as it is now just always conveniently forgets that these are extremely powerful demons for the sake of setting up random shenanigan situations.

A combat mechanic could also add to the narrative design of the game -- what better way to show us what a scary and dangerous place the Devildom is than to have the player have to defend themselves while navigating through it? Or imagine the characters' relationships with one another actually mattering to the gameplay, like Beel and Belphie getting a boost if they're in the party together, as with Fire Emblem's support system! Simeon being a healing angel member of the party at the start and then actually tangibly losing that as a combat ability when that part of the story happened? It would certainly hit different, that's for sure.

The story also wouldn't be confined to the 20-lesson format in that case, which could give more room for fleshing things out properly. And with a freer adventure-based storyline, it might also be a lot less focus on RAD, or maybe it wouldn't be a school setting at all! Perhaps it would focus more on the inter-realm diplomacy parts of the story. Plus, some aspects could get relegated to more environmental storytelling and interactable objects around you, leaving character interactions freed up to focus more on actual events going on.

And speaking of character interactions, there could also be a more complex and interesting system for relationships in a more RPG style game. Instead of an intimacy bar that only ever goes up and doesn't directly impact story events, you could have a more complex interaction event system, like in Telltale stuff or Mass Effect. That could still include romance without it being the central point of the game, and maybe they would also hold grudges over certain decisions, which could feed back into the combat system somehow. Unlike now, you wouldn't be able to go back to change your decisions, but there's a lot of replayability potential there.

Of course, the downside to all that it's way more work to make...game dev is hard, after all! So updates would be slower, it'd probably cost a whole lot more, and it's probably not feasible as a mobile game anymore then. But hey, a game like that would be pretty damn cool.

[imasadboi]

YanderePirate!Leon x Mermaid!Reader

Minors fuck off, please and thank you! This was just stuck in my lil head for a while and I went through with it, hope y'all enjoy. I may write more, depends if the inspo hits me or not. Shit was not beta'd so excuse any mistakes. . CW: blood, violence, use of weapons (harpoon), noncon, somnophilia, fingering, masturbation, reader is part fish. Lmk if I missed anything.

You first came into existence for him when he’d spotted you lounging on a rock, the sunlight making your skin glisten and your hair glow. His eyes trailed further down your body to notice your pert nipples, as a gentle sea breeze washed over your body. 

But what caught his eye the most, was your tail—virescent and refracting the sun’s light in a way that made it glimmer so beautifully. He had never seen something so captivating in his life. Obsession blossomed in his chest then, the need to have you flowing into his veins at a burning rate. At this moment, his only goal in life was to capture you and make you his.

Leon finds himself smiling as he sees his harpoon shoot right through your tail, the way your blood fills the grooves of your scales and melds flawlessly with the ocean water;

“Don’t struggle darling, you’ll only make it worse for yourself!” 

Your eyes involuntarily well up with tears, pain racking your body as you struggle to take in breaths. You flail in the water as your body is lifted, a loud cry escapes your throat as the unknown pirate hauls your body onto his ship—each pull causes the harpoon to jolt in your injury.

With a thud, your injured body lands on the deck; Leon has a rope in hand, roughly grabbing your arms and tying your wrists together.

“God, you look so much more beautiful up close, love.” Leon’s eyes trail across your body, lingering on your chest for a moment before eyeing the damage he just caused with his weapon. ‘I had to,’ he thinks, eyebrows furrowing with affliction, ‘She would have swam away.’

“I feel awful for this darling, but bear with me,” You follow his line of sight landing on the harpoon. You quickly realize what’s about to happen. 

“Wait, wait, wait, please don’t—,” a loud and agonizing shriek is heard, reverberating in Leon’s ears causing him to wince.

Sobs and whimpers pour from your mouth as Leon tosses the item aside, “Shh dear, you did so well. I’ll make you feel better in no time. I promise darling.” He cups your face, wiping heavy tears from your face with a gentle thumb—it should be his tongue instead.

Your tail sluggishly bleeds onto the wooden floor, your body working to heal itself in a timely manner. You look into those blue eyes, contrasting the warmth of your home;

“Why are you doing this?”

Leon stops the gentle strokes on your face, his face falling into blissful tranquility, “The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were mine darling.” 

It’s the last thing you hear as you succumb to darkness, the events taking a toll on your body. Leon feels his heart swell at the sight of you falling limp in his arms. He manages to slide an arm under your shoulders and your tail—struggling a bit with how slippery it is—and carries you into his quarters. 

He lays you down on his bed where he wraps a bandage over your gash, noticing the way it’s beginning to close on its own. He knew of some stories and tales of merfolk abilities but now, seeing it for himself, he finds himself in awe. Had he been someone else, someone who only found interest in obtaining their weight in gold, you would have been ripped apart. Killed. All for what could be exploited for man's benefit. Anger clouds his mind for a second, “Nobody can ever hurt you now, love.”

Leon runs a hand over your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Nobody can ever hurt you now, love.”

He wants to leave you to rest but your prone body tempts that part of him he’s never felt so strongly before; desire. He can feel himself begin to harden at the thought of giving in. How dare you seduce him even while unconscious.

His hand slightly trembles as his fingertips make contact with the soft flesh of your stomach, feeling it rise with every pull of breath you take in and release. God, you look so beautiful. Those fingers make their way to the underside of your tit, before gliding onto your nipple. It perks at his touch and his excitement ramps up. How sensitive. His fingers grasp your nipple lightly, rolling it and pushing it into the supple flesh of your breast. He watches your face with rapport as he does so, your face gives no indication that you’re aware of his actions. 

The left hand trailing your body finally lands onto your tail, the scales under his touch feel moist yet smooth. There’s a gathering of scales that stand out among the others, his throat feels dry upon approaching it. With one finger, he gently moves the largest scale.

Now his mouth is practically salivating as his finger slowly reveals a seemingly normal looking pussy, only different in color—it matches the colors of your tail and he’s never found anything more beautiful. He takes a quick glance at your face and sees you’re still deep asleep.

He knows he shouldn’t, would rather see your live reactions to his touches, but he’s been dreaming about this for too long. Leon gingerly presses his pointer finger inside, taking note of how warm and wet you are. Your pussy seems to clench on the intrusion before relaxing. He slides it in and out, wanting to gather more of your wetness; It’s more viscous than other women he’s been with, creating a stupidly easy slip and slide for his finger.

Without hesitation, he dips two more fingers in, in awe as your pussy easily accepts them, like it was made for him. The other hand he had by your face moves to push his pants down, his dick already weeping with pre. He has enough restraint to keep from fucking you right then and there, instead removing his fingers from your hole and slathering the slick he accumulated from you onto his cock. He returns his fingers in you, this time with four. He begins to pump himself with the other, imagining he’s inside you instead.

There’s a slight strain to fingering you as he curls his fingers into the spongy part of your walls—which earns him a twitch of your tail and a cut-off whimper from you—while teasing the head of his dick. The arousal burns right through him, and Leon is unable to hold back from releasing deep moans and whimpers as he moves his hand faster. He sees your body start to squirm the more insistent he is with his digits, the urgency and deep need to make you cum with him hanging obsessively over his head.

You wake up with a feeling like something in your abdomen has snapped, and a loud moan shakily leaves your throat. Your pussy feels full and pulsates around the intruding object. On the other hand, Leon finally gives in and shoots load after load onto his shirt, hand, and thighs—the look of your face, pure bliss, tipping him over the edge. He awaits a tongue-lashing from you only to find you’ve gone back to sleep.

He removes his fingers from you with care, bringing them to his mouth. At the first taste of you, he moans. He sucks on his fingers until your essence is completely eliminated. He tucks himself back into his pants, still feeling breathless from having cum so intensely. If just this felt amazing, he can only wonder what it’ll be like when he’s finally in you.

[argisthebulwark]

TES Summer Fest Day 1: arcane/beast

summary: Despite knowing that their continued use of the Thu'um draws them closer from humanity, the Last Dragonborn would not stop until Alduin fell. They never considered what the aftermath would look like. warnings: very minor allusions to violence/injury, changes to body (LDB growing dragon aspects) @tes-summer-fest thanks again for running such a cool event!

The Last Dragonborn had awed Skyrim with their feats - returning from Sovngarde alive was unheard of. Slaying Alduin and saving the world left them somewhat of a celebrity. Songs were penned in their name and bards across the nation regaled captivated audiences with tales of the Dragonborn's heroic deeds. All those fantastical tales lacked one key detail. Not a soul knew the fearsome truth of what the Last Dragonborn had become in their pursuit to save the world. 

It was a generally accepted truth that the Dragonborn chose to live a reclusive life. They'd spent so long in front of the public eye and most were content knowing their savior had retired into a quiet life. Jarls had practically thrown plots of land and grand estates at them, all clamoring for some bragging rights. The Dragonborn had chosen their land to claim after slaying the World Eater.

It became the acceptable reason for their notable absence. The Last Dragonborn was merely enjoying the spoils of their labor in some lavish home. The guards along their property must be there to keep out excited onlookers and curious authors sniffing around for some new juicy detail. Surely their army of stewards took care of all shopping and business on their behalf in order to aid in their relaxation. The world was comfortable in its knowledge that the Dragonborn was living comfortably and quietly away from the public eye. 

None knew the horrible truth of what lurked behind those high fences and carefully armed guards. Dense forests hid the creature stalking through the Dragonborn’s vast property, wings aching and teeth gnashing. No one saw the Last Dragonborn’s talons or the scales sprouting from their skin, eyes tracking whatever creature was unlucky enough to cross their path. Growls and claw marks marring the trees could easily be explained away - bears or sabre cats, none of Skyrim's citizens could know that the true beast was their beloved Dovahkiin.

In their moments of lucidity the Dragonborn ensured that they were hidden away. They could bear whatever ill-will the many members of court had for their absence as long as Skyrim remained safe. They saw the state of their hands, clawed and dirtied from crawling along their property. They heard the unfamiliar timbre of their voice and noticed the way their steward refused to meet eyes that had morphed into something animalistic. None but their trusted inner circle were permitted to see the animal they had become. 

They'd heard the horror stories. Moth Priests and Greybeards alike had warned them what would come. They knew Miraak's dreadful tale, the way he'd lost himself entirely in the addictive pursuit of power. The Last Dragonborn had given every shred of their humanity knowing what their unfortunate end would be. Every use of Dragonrend stole a bit of them, Dragon Aspect took longer to wear off each time until they became more beast than man.

It felt like only yesterday they'd saved the world and suddenly the world needed safekeeping from them. The Last Dragonborn was content behind their high fences and magical wards, a predator who'd slain their only true prey. Even on the worst of days the Dragonborn knew down to their bones that they would do it all again. They would ruin themself over and over to keep Skyrim safe from harm.

[intuitive-revelations]

One major implication I don't think that episode really took the time to settle on is the implication that the Toymaker has already massively messed up the universe?

Toymaker: I came to this universe with such delight. And I played them all, Doctor. I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spin tops. I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box. Toymaker: I made a jigsaw out of your history... did you like it? Toymaker: The Master was dying and begged for his life with one final game, and when he lost, I sealed him for all eternity within my gold tooth.

And later:

Toymaker: Do you think a grand total of two can cause me to shiver when I've played against the Guardians of Time and Space and shrank them into voodoo dolls?

So to summarise:

It's implied the universe is now even more destroyed by the Toymaker's reality warping. Granted we don't know what the scale of this is, unlike the Flux, but it's possibly proportionally quite big considering how little of the universe is left already? That being said, he could have done this in history before the Flux, since it was a linear event, in which case this is far less of an issue.

That being said, it's likely this was reversed by the Toymaker being banished - so we're probably not going to see galaxy-sized spin-tops in the future. How many people died, and if they come back however, is less clear.

The Master (presumably dying after POTD), and the Black and White Guardians (at least - possibly the other 3 guardians too, excluding the Toymaker - though they're the main ones, and it's "order and chaos" specifically which are mentioned in the episode) have all gamed with the Toymaker and lost. The tooth!Master is at least left in our universe, and may possibly be secure with UNIT. The fate of the Guardians is a bit less clear, as is the implications for the balance of the universe.

But perhaps the biggest thing, and the one the episode actually took the time to give us a confused 14 reaction shot to:

The Toymaker has a made a 'jigsaw' out of the Doctor's history (or maybe history in general, although he does say 'your').

So what does that mean?

The hint is that the Doctor has already experienced whatever it is... so what was it that he caused with his interference?

To me there's perhaps three possible options:

The Star Beast - this would be an oddly minor thing to refer to, but arguably makes the most sense in the 'arc' of the specials. Perhaps he's referring to the Doctor encountering Beep the Meep for the first time again? ie. taken one jigsaw piece and exchanged its position in his timeline. For now this might be my headcanon regarding it, but would be really odd to be the intention, especially since we're already disregarding most of the other appearances of the Toymaker in the EU? It's also of course not the first time we've had an adaptation of an EU story in the main show without referencing the original (the no. 1 example being Human Nature - there are others like The Lodger and Dalek, but they're different enough that they can co-exist in a continuity with their source material).

The Timeless Child / Fugitive Doctor - RTD has said he's not going retcon the arc, but this arguably makes the most sense as a 'puzzle' being made out of the Doctor's history? Especially with regards to the Fugitive Doctor anyway, given there's the additional complications of her a) being the "Doctor", b) having a Police Box TARDIS, yet c) seemingly being from around the time of the Anchoring of the Thread.

The Toymaker's being time-wimey, it hasn't happened yet / it's nothing in particular - While it would be a bit confusing to contradict the one detail we got in the episode, this is always a possibility too. After all, there was a lot of sequel hooking all across these specials, so it might be something RTD will come back to, especially if we are going to be seeing more of the past Doctors in future series? Hopefully not by the biregeneration theory he gave about them all being split retroactively, because that is literally insane and doesn't even make the little sense the 14-15 one does....wtf.

So overall, what do I think?

Well I think I can be somewhat forgiving with the damage to the rest of the universe, just because it's implied that it might be reset, and the scale/lethality was never established. Plus like I said, there is some justification to the proportional issue not being too bad when combined with the Flux.

The Black and White Guardians implication is... interesting. We are gradually building up more and more of those 'Great Old One' / pre-universe elements in (New)NewWho, so there's a good chance this could come back in the future. It probably won't have immediate effects on the universe, as the Guardians seemed to be more concerned with specific dangers like the Key to Time. It could perhaps lead to more Eternals popping up across the universe, given the Guardians were the only force they really answered to. RTD I think is also quite aware of some of the Eternal-type lore too, since he played around with it quite a bit in those Series 1 articles talking about the Time War.

The Master's obviously coming back and as silly as this was, it does at least justify him being alive after POTD. It actually opens up the possibility of seeing Dhawan himself again too, which would be great! The nail-polished hand picking it up felt like a bit of a trolling moment, after how underwelming all the theories of who did it were when the End of Time came along. Someone pointed out that Kate actually has the same nail-polish, which would be interesting. Perhaps when we next see the Master, they'll be in UNIT captivity, Delgado style?

Finally, the jigsaw line, which is possibly the most interesting. Originally I was going to lean towards this being nothing / a vague setup for future past-Doctor stuff, since that seems to be the default, but now that I've laid it out... I think this could be a setup for more Fugitive!Doctor appearances. It makes the most sense from a story perspective anyway, given what the Toymaker said and some of the questions surrounding her not being answered, whether or not it's the direction the franchise would actually want to go.

After all, as controversial as the Timeless Child lore was, as far as I'm aware Jo Martin was pretty well recieved, and I'm sure RTD would love to look for opportunities to do more with her somehow. Whether he'd want something so continuity dependent from a showrunning perspective, however, is a bit more questionable.

[strawberryqueen00]

Sorry but I’m gonna support the Disney wish movie.

I’m rooting for everyone black.

More Wish, less Frozen 3 & 4

So I want to make it clear that despite the tone of my post, you do not have to not Boycott this film if you want to support original content and black representation. This is an important cause for people and it doesn’t make you suddenly anti-Palestinian or Pro-Genocide to see a single motion picture. You are the only one who knows your own morals. I don’t want it to seem as if I was condemning black people from supporting a film they are experiencing representation in/placing an balance-scale style comparison between the struggles of POC in the world and Palestinians. I fight against the notion some have online that the matter of seeing Wish is just someone “succumbing to capitalism” or “being weak.” It has been seen before how the lack of monetary achievements for minority lead films discredits that representation further. Why do we think it has taken this long for another mainline black Princess after Princess and the Frog? It’s not rocket science here.

It is not my place as a non-Palestinian to say if you are allowed to see this movie. That is a choice you can make after looking at the information. But it should also not be my place to shame people into supporting the movement either. Especially because of the complicated nature of this specific issue. I tried to rewrite this to be more clear in my initial post but for the sake of brevity I didn’t make this point more clear and that’s my fault. I’m going to go in more depth about why I am personally choosing to be so Anti-Disney with my Boycott but I want to make things crystal clear before the cut,

Disney is not an official Boycott target by the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions Movement(BDS). Disney is a Pressure Target technically not Boycotted but is complicit in Israel's apartheid behavior.

The targets they are listing consumers to Boycott monetarily are:

Siemen

PUMA

Carrefour

AXA

Hewlett Packard Inc (HP Inc)

SodaStream

Ahava

RE/MAX

Israeli produce in your supermarkets

Now, more details about all of that.

So there are two Boycotts currently being implemented against Disney on different fronts.

A joint one with Starbucks, McDonalds, and Disney that seems to have started independently of the. I anecdotally remember there being posts around the week after the first October 7th event. This seemed to be driven mostly by the three companies being

large companies which will notice the impact on their stock going down as an impact of the Pro-Palestine public.

They in some way have publicly Pro-Israel in their support with little acknowledgement for Palestine. And I’m using ‘little’ generously here.

Starbucks Sources for this:

https://www.arabnews.com/node/281313

Above is a fantastic article that looks critically at these claims. And below is one that shows the trend of Starbucks over the years to keep the support their CEO has for the Apartheid hidden.

McDonald Sources

Giving food and support to Israel and nothing to Palestine.

An article detailing the action Starbucks had against its union for posting Pro-Palestine statements, the Meals already discussed, and how McDonalds is trying to just throw humanitarian money at the issue to save face.

But now the main stay of the post.

Initially Disney was joined for this independent three way Boycott because it was a larger media company. More recently they gave 2 million in Humanitarian Aid to Israel.

I don’t want disinformation to spread this is humanitarian aid, yes, but it is only for Israel. Not Palestine. Not the people of Gaza that are being subjected to war crimes. Supporting just the apartheid state and not Palestine is the problem here. Disney is still showing their cards of what they’re supporting.

Now, what about the BDS?

The BDS is responsible for the second Disney Boycott. What is the BDS? The majority of this next section is going to come directly from the BDS website which I recommend people check out for future Boycotts.

BDS stands for Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions and is one of the largest Palestinian-led movements for organizing for spreading awareness. They weaponize these main three types of non-violent pressure to discourage the support corporations have under capitalism for Israel.

Now, how is the BDS treatment of Disney different than the three way McDonalds, Starbucks, Disney Boycott?

Firstly, they in support for the monetary boycott of just McDonalds. Starbucks is not listed on their updated list and specifically with McDonalds they had this to say,

Further with regard to Disney it sees it as a Pressure-Target and not a monetary one.

What’s a Pressure-Target Boycott?

Boycotts cannot target everyone all the time, which is why sometimes Boycotts split up their targets into groups to not make the process seem to daunting.

The BDS points out a Pressure-Target as,

This pressure could come through social media, emails sent to the company, or petitions.

Under this cut I am going to be posting such links to some petitions I think are productive here.

Why is Disney being targeted as Pressure-Target?

This is Sabra, an Israeli hero from the 1981 who has an extensive plot involving her as an Israeli and the Palestine suppress-oops I meant ‘War’(tell that to anyone believing this started only a few years ago).

Quoting this CNN article of what her first comic was,

The classic 1981 Marvel comic page shows the giant green Hulk, tears streaming down his face as he yells at Sabra, an Israeli superhero and agent of the country's Mossad spy agency. The corpse of a young Palestinian boy, killed in an explosion by apparently Arab "terrorists" at his feet.

"Boy died because boy's people and yours both want to own land! Boy died because you wouldn't share!" the Hulk says.

A few panels later, the woman in the white and blue costume with a Star of David on her chest kneels next to the boy. “

It has taken the Hulk to make her see this dead Arab boy as a human being," the comic says. "It has taken a monster to awaken her own sense of humanity."

It is not my right to speak if this is tone-deaf or not. There are quotes in the article that support this notion but it’s not my place.

Now, why is she important?

Disney is looking to reuse this character for the upcoming Captain America film. This is why it’s considered a Pressure-Target. The BDS lists the problems with this representation down below. They are calling not for Boycotts of films but for online pressure to have this Israeli propaganda dismantled.

Something not brought up here is that releasing a character with the name of Sabra after the more than a thousand Palestinian and Lebanese Shiite people were massacred. Especially with a planned release date of a week after the incident is in poor taste, even if the name had other contexts surrounding it.

So, do I see Wish?

This is not an easy answer I can give you. This is something you need to come to terms with and also understand, this is no ‘correct’ way to Boycott a business. In my post I strategically underplayed this point to keep the message brief. But as we just saw here, there are two different valid methods of Boycotts against Disney.

If you are choosing to not monetarily give Disney money that is valid with a Boycott.

If you are seeing the movie but giving pressure by @ing Disney’s social media, signing letters, and petitions you are valid with a Boycott.

Both people I presented here are Boycotting against Israel's apartheid. There isn’t a correct form of activism and it was my fault to imply that so extremely before. I am choosing not to see Wish because of looking around at all the Western propaganda around this. Walking through the walls of what I considered a liberal school to saw Israel flags supporting the apartheid state.

But that is my choice.

It doesn’t have to be your non-violent protest journey. Do what you think is right with the information you have. Stay educated, don’t let disinformation spread.

And have a good day/afternoon/night everyone.

[liketwoswansinbalance]

MASTERPOST for The One True School Master of Vault 41

This is a continually updating table of contents to help with navigating my posts about TOTSMOV41, my WIP longfic.

The fic's premise: Sophie joins forces with a resurrected, former lover in the midst of trying to get Tedros back onto Camelot's throne, but that's not even half the uphill battle: rogue psyches and distrust abound and threaten to shatter the present state of the Woods as everyone knows it.

or

In which Rafal is resurrected during the events of One True King and things go horribly, disproportionately wrong!

Also, the fic will not be published for a very long time, so don't expect to see it anytime soon. I'm still on draft zero/the outline/script.

⸻

—Table of Contents—

Title reveal and associated music

Round I of Excerpts

Apparently, the tag "otk" is banned from tumblr.

The misleading trope hint

Round II Excerpt

Visual ref. 1

Facts about the fic

Reblog #1

Aesthetic for one of the first scenes (and flower trivia in the comments)

A Peek at My Outline Process

Reblog #2, dialogue, and reference to suicide

Round III of Excerpts

Sketch - Rafal got punched in the face.

Screenshots of my Pinterest board for the fic

Update, more facts about the fic, and its references to philosophic concepts

Round IV Excerpt

Cover Reveal

Reblog #3

Reblog #4

Reblog #5

Hypothetical Non-Excerpt

The Recurring Japeth Punchline

Reblog #6

Reblog #7

Three "Fun" (Incongruous) Facts

Thanatos drive reference mentioned

Reblog #8

Reblog #9

Reblog #10

Ask containing minor fic trivia

Update and Round V of Excerpts

Which wizard is this? (a.k.a. The Tedros Insanity Poll)

Reblog #11

Reblog #12

Reblog #13 and Fic Tags

Round VI Excerpt

The Suffering Scale

Word Ask Game

Word Ask #1

Word Ask #2

Word Ask #3

Results of the Tedros Poll

Round VII of Excerpts

Guess the Last Verb/Noun

Minor Spoilers

Reblog #14

Reblog #15

Reblog #16

Visual ref. 2

—The Story— [Links TBA after publication.]

Part I: Of Solipsism, Sophistry, and Storians.

Part II: Great Mistake II, Great Mistake III, and Verisimilitude

Part III: Phantoms, Prescience, and the Pen

Deleted Scene

Meta post

Fic Analysis, Commentary & Trivia

Propaganda

⸻

Need-to-Knows (a.k.a How I'm meddling with canon):

This fic will involve Rafal being resurrected, and lead up to an alternate continuity of plot events, all set during One True King. Thus, its title will be: The One True School Master of Vault 41. However, the title may or may not be a bit of a misnomer, so I might just end up subverting your expectations after all.

There will be a form of "psyche travel," or an approximation of time travel, using Dovey's crystal ball like in ACOT, the arson of a certain Wizard Tree to look forward to, and some offbeat, unprecedented action taken by the Storian. Of course, Agatha and Rafal will bicker a lot while Sophie plays the role of mediator. And, oh, Rafal will be tortured, slightly…

Additionally, there's a couple things to note about the premise and the changes I've made to canon, for context:

1. The fic will disregard Fall as canon, yet will acknowledge Rise.

2. There are several canon elements I'm not using. The Rafal is the fic is him from Rise, and also from TLEA. I decided to only acknowledge Rise but not Fall because I didn't want to work with the identity-swap twist. So Rafal is Rafal is Rafal in this case. I will draw from both his Rise characterization and his TLEA characterization.

3. Later in the fic, Rise Rhian only has minor appearances, and is present in Rafal's psyche, but he will not actually be a character until I write a possible sequel, if I ever do reach that point. So, you can assume Rhian was moderately Good to grey on the morality scale, and that Rafal was the one who ultimately committed the fratricide for the purposes of this fic.

4. I've decided not to acknowledge the OTK parentage twist. To clarify, Rafal will have no relation to Japeth, simply because it felt out of character for him to have children with a woman he seemed to loathe, even if it may have been less out of character for the canon Rhian falsely disguised as "Rafal." I personally thought it contradicted Rafal's characterization, so Japeth's placeholder father, who probably won't even be mentioned in the story, will be the Green Knight, to explain his magical prowess as the Snake.

Otherwise, for the most part, this fic is alternate continuity "canon," and diverges at some point during OTK.

I've tried to set the stage, eradicate confusion, and mediate potential disappointment as best as I could above, but if anyone would like me to demystify anything about the fic, my writing process, or ask anything else at all, feel free to send questions to me! Yet, I might not be able to answer everything, for various reasons, including limiting excessive spoilers, so please keep that in mind.