#they are both deeply curious and really enjoying learning

[a1sart]

I made marble sky ocs <3

they're like toxic doomed yuri I love them

also I did not intend for their color palettes to literally just be the lesbian flag but y'know what I think it works

[earthlybeam]

Hey hi, (⌒‐⌒) if that's okay, I was wondering if you could do the idea I presented to you earlier, about how Elves would treat their pregnant partners during their pregnancies, I'm particularly curious about how you would write Thranduil, thanks in advance (〝⌒∇⌒〝)

(By the way, English is not my native language, so I apologize if I made any mistakes.)

Hi there! No need to apologize at all—your message was perfectly clear, and I really appreciate the thought you put into it! That sounds like a fascinating idea, especially exploring how Elves, and Thranduil in particular, would care for their pregnant partners reader. He has such a strong yet deeply protective nature, so I can imagine he would be both regal and incredibly attentive in his own way. So enjoy 🥰🫶✨ Thranduil version below (Reader is Female within this.)

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

𐂂 The moment he learns of the pregnancy, he insists that you stay within the safest parts of the palace, away from stress and potential danger. If you try to argue, he simply states, “I will not risk you. Or our child.” in a tone that brooks no argument. He assigns trusted healers to monitor your condition and personally ensures they have the best remedies and care available.

𐂂 Thranduil fiercely protective and his vigilance now borders on obsession. No one is allowed to overburden you, not even yourself. Any duties of the court you insist on attending are met with a sharp glance. “You are my queen, not a soldier in battle. Do not test my patience, meleth.” He refuses to let you walk the palace halls alone—whether it is his hand on the small of your back or a silent guard at your side, you are never left unprotected. He does not allow you to partake in any travel, no matter how much you insist. His voice is firm when he states, “You will not set foot beyond the borders of our kingdom until our child is born. I will not risk you.”

𐂂 Your comfort becomes his utmost priority, and he ensures that everyone in the kingdom knows it. He has chambers redesigned for your needs, making sure every cushion, every chair, every inch of your space is as luxurious as possible. If your body aches, he massages your shoulders, your feet, your back with a tenderness that few ever witness from him. He commissions tailors to craft the finest silks that will not restrict you, personally selecting the fabrics himself. “Only the finest for the mother of my heir.”

𐂂 While his love has always been strong, there is a newfound softness in the way he treats you in private. He often runs his hands over your stomach, as if memorizing the life growing inside. “I wonder if they will have your eyes.” You wake up to him whispering to your belly in Elvish, telling your child of the kingdom they will rule, of the strength they will inherit. If he catches you struggling to get comfortable, he immediately adjusts your pillows, pulling you into his embrace. “Sleep, my love. I will not rest until you do.”

𐂂 Thranduil has never been one to tolerate disrespect, but during your pregnancy, his temper becomes even sharper. If anyone so much as hints at questioning your ability to rule while carrying his child, they are swiftly put in their place. “My queen carries the future of our realm. Watch your tongue before you speak ill of her.” He dislikes when others crowd you, even if they are simply well-wishers. His hand rests on your waist, a silent but clear warning: you belong to him, and he will allow no one to overstep. If another Elf dares to flirt, even jokingly, they will find themselves on the receiving end of Thranduil’s coldest glare. “You forget yourself. Do not mistake my patience for tolerance.”

𐂂 Thranduil does not often voice his fears, you notice the way his gaze lingers on you when he believes you are not looking Late at night, you feel the way he tightens his arms around you, as if grounding himself in your presence. One evening, he confesses, voice hushed “I have lost too much in this life. I will not lose you. I could not bear it.” He refuses to let you see the weight of his worries, but you can feel it in the way he kisses your forehead longer than usual, in the way his touch lingers when he brushes your hair back.

𐂂 To Thranduil, you are not just his queen—you are the mother of his heir, the most sacred being in his world. He treats you as though you are made of the finest glass, ensuring that you are never burdened with anything unnecessary. When you are emotional, he does not dismiss your feelings but pulls you into his embrace. “There is no shame in your emotions, meleth. Let them flow.” The way he looks at you is reverent, as though he cannot believe you exist, as though you have gifted him something beyond his wildest dreams.

𐂂 When You Feel Insecure or “Fat” Thranduil will not tolerate you speaking ill of yourself. The moment you express doubt about your appearance, he is cupping your face, tilting your chin up so you must meet his gaze. “Meleth nîn, you are carrying my child. You are the most breathtaking being in all of Arda.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. He runs his hands over your body, lingering on your belly with reverence. “You shine brighter than the stars themselves, and I will hear no more of this nonsense.” If you continue to fret, he distracts you—perhaps by pulling you into a slow dance, his lips pressing against your temple as he murmurs, “Do you not see what I see?”

𐂂 When You Crave Something Strange, No matter how odd your cravings, Thranduil ensures you have what you desire. If it is something the palace kitchens lack, he personally sees to it that it is found—whether it requires sending his guards to Lake-town or scouring the forest for rare fruits. He watches with amusement as you indulge, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “I do not understand how you find this appealing, but if it brings you joy, then so be it.” If the craving is truly bizarre (say, honey-dipped cucumber or salted berries with wine), he might raise an elegant brow, but he will not deny you. “You are a mystery, my love, but I would have it no other way.” He may even humor you by trying your strange food combinations—though whether he enjoys them or not is another matter entirely.

𐂂 When You Ache and Feel Sore well Thranduil refuses to let you suffer in silence. The moment he sees you wince or shift uncomfortably, he is at your side, guiding you to sit or lie down. “Tell me where it hurts.”He massages your feet, your shoulders, your back—his hands skilled and patient, working away the tension with slow, deliberate strokes. He draws a warm bath infused with elven herbs, carrying you into the water himself if necessary. He stays by your side, washing your hair with careful fingers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. If you cannot sleep due to discomfort, he stays up with you, rubbing soothing circles on your back, whispering soft lullabies in Elvish. He refuses to let you lift a finger, insisting he will handle anything that causes you strain. “You will rest, meleth, and allow me to care for you.”

𐂂 Thranduil, ever composed, is patient with your shifting moods. If you burst into tears over something small, he does not question it—he simply pulls you into his arms, rubbing slow circles on your back as he murmurs, “Cry if you must, my heart. I am here.” If you grow irritated or snap at him, he does not take offense. Instead, he chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You are fierce, even now. I admire it.” If you feel overwhelmed, he takes you somewhere quiet—perhaps a secluded part of the forest, where you can breathe freely, his hand never leaving yours.

𐂂 Thranduil knows the weight of carrying an heir, and he makes sure you never feel alone in it. He whispers soft words of encouragement against your skin at night, his hands splayed protectively over your belly. “You are strong. You are radiant. And you are never alone.” He calls you his queen with even more reverence than before, treating you like the most precious thing in his world. He reminds you, time and time again, that this child is not just yours, but his as well. “You do not bear this burden alone, meleth. We are in this together.” If ever you doubt yourself, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “There is no one else I would trust to bear my child. You are everything to me.”

𐂂 Talking to Your Belly of course Thranduil may seem composed and regal, but when he thinks no one is watching, he kneels before you, pressing his forehead against your growing belly. “My little leaf,” he whispers to the unborn child, his fingers trailing delicately over your skin. “I await your arrival with great anticipation.” He talks about the things he will show them—the golden leaves of the forest, the hidden waterfalls, the beauty of the night sky. If you giggle and tease him about it, he only smirks. “They should know their father’s voice, should they not?”

𐂂 On particularly lazy afternoons, Thranduil insists you rest in his lap, reclining against him as he reads aloud from old Elven texts. His voice is smooth, lyrical, carrying the weight of ages, but it holds a gentleness meant just for you. Occasionally, he pauses to press a kiss to your temple or stroke a protective hand over your belly. “Are you listening, meleth?” he asks, amused when he notices you dozing off against him.

𐂂 Any time you so much as stand up too quickly, Thranduil is immediately at your side, hands on your waist. “You should be resting,” he chastises, but there’s no true scolding in his voice, only concern. If you attempt to brush him off, he lifts a regal brow. “Do not fight me on this, meleth. You carry my child; it is only right that I tend to you.” When you sigh in exasperation, he chuckles, kissing your knuckles. “Indulge me, my love. Let me care for you.”

𐂂 Every night, Thranduil pulls you close, one arm draped protectively over your belly. His touch is reverent, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispers sweet nothings in Elvish. If you wake in the middle of the night, you often find him already awake, watching over you with quiet adoration. “Sleep, meleth. I am here.” Even in the quietest moments, Thranduil’s love surrounds you—soft, unwavering, and endless.

𐂂 Overreacting to the Smallest Discomforts is to be expected all the time during your pregnancies, as the moment you sigh, wince, or even shift in your seat, Thranduil is at your side in an instant. “What is it? Are you in pain? Do you need a healer? Shall I fetch warm water? More pillows? Wine—oh, no, you cannot have wine. Tea? Blankets? A new chair? A different throne entirely?” He once nearly ordered an entire section of the palace remodeled because you mentioned the cushions weren’t as soft as they could be.

𐂂 What starts as a simple request for a crib turns into an entire wing of the palace dedicated to the baby. The room is adorned with enchanted starlight, handcrafted furniture, and silk curtains woven by Elven artisans. There’s even a tiny throne. When you point this out, Thranduil shrugs. “They are my heir. They deserve the best.”

Just a cute moment with thranduil

The air in Thranduil’s chambers was warm, the golden glow of candlelight flickering softly against the polished wood and stone. The scent of aged parchment and ink mingled with the faint aroma of the fresh flowers he had insisted be placed near your bedside—your favorites, of course. You lay reclined against a mound of silken pillows, your swollen belly rising and falling with each slow breath. Sleep eluded you, as it often did in these late stages of pregnancy, but the quiet company of your husband made the sleeplessness bearable.

Thranduil sat at his ornate desk, his silver head bent over a stack of parchment, quill in hand. His robes draped over the chair, his posture elegant yet ever watchful, even as he attended to his duties. Though his gaze remained fixed on his work, you knew his mind was never far from you—his ears attuned to every sigh, every shift in your position. You smiled softly, watching him. Even now, a king burdened with the weight of his realm, he had chosen to remain close, forsaking the grand halls of his court to work in the privacy of his chambers—because you were here. Because he would not leave your side.

And then it happened. A sudden, distinct movement within you. Not the fluttering sensations you had grown used to, but something stronger. A push. A kick. You gasped, one hand flying instinctively to your belly, fingers pressing against the place where the tiny foot had made itself known. Thranduil’s head snapped up immediately, the sharp scratch of his quill against parchment ceasing at once. His piercing blue eyes locked onto yours, and in an instant, he was by your side, moving with the silent grace only an elf could possess.

“What is it?” His voice was low, urgent, his long fingers brushing against your wrist before settling gently on your belly. “Are you in pain?” You shook your head quickly, your lips curving into a breathless smile. “No, meleth-nîn… the baby—our child—just kicked.” For the first time, all the centuries of poise and control Thranduil had mastered seemed to melt away. His usually composed expression softened into something wondrous, something almost boyish in its astonishment.

He said nothing at first, only watching your face as if needing to confirm the truth of your words. Then, hesitantly, he spread his hand over your stomach, his fingers splayed wide, reverent. “Again,” he murmured, almost a command. “Let me feel it again.” As if obeying their father, the baby stirred once more, pressing against his palm in a firm little kick.

Thranduil inhaled sharply, his lips parting in silent awe. His fingers flexed slightly, stroking over the place where the movement had been, his usually cool touch warm against your skin. His eyes—wide, unguarded—lifted to meet yours, and in them, you saw something raw and unspoken. A love so deep, it stole the breath from your lungs. “Our child,” he whispered, as if the words themselves were sacred. “They are strong.” You laughed softly, resting your hand over his, holding him there. “Just like their father.” Thranduil’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze dropping back to your belly. He remained there for a long moment, simply feeling, simply being with you and the life you had created together. And then, in a gesture so tender it made your heart ache, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss just above where his hand lay.

His voice, low and laced with emotion, murmured words in Sindarin—words meant for only you and the child within you to hear. And for the rest of the night, the king who ruled a great woodland realm never returned to his desk. Instead, he stayed with you, his hand resting over yours, waiting for every kick, every sign of life, his heart entirely, irrevocably yours. His hand remained on your belly, long fingers tracing delicate circles over the fabric of your nightgown. Every so often, his touch would still, waiting, hoping for another sign from the child nestled safely within you. When another tiny kick pressed against his palm, his lips curved into the faintest of smiles.

“So eager, are you?” he murmured, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. His head tilted slightly as if listening, his keen elven ears attuned to something beyond what you could perceive. “Do you hear me, little one?” His voice was low, smooth as flowing water, laced with a quiet reverence. He leaned closer, shifting onto his side so he could cradle you and your swollen belly with both hands, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your gown. He stroked gentle patterns along your skin, his touch featherlight yet possessive, as though grounding himself in the reality of what lay before him.

“You are strong,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “Already, I can feel it.” A quiet pause, his thumb brushing along the curve of your belly. “And stubborn… like your mother.” You let out a soft laugh, swatting at his shoulder, and he chuckled, a rare and quiet thing, his usual sharp edges softened by the intimacy of the moment. He pressed a kiss just below your navel, his silver hair cascading over your skin like silk. “But you will also be proud,” he continued, his lips grazing against you as he spoke, “and wise, and fair. You will walk among the trees and hear their voices as I do. The stars will know your name before you have even spoken your first words.”

You felt your heart swell at the tenderness in his voice, the devotion in his every movement. This was Thranduil as few had ever seen him—unguarded, vulnerable, fatherly. His fingers resumed their slow, reverent caress, his voice turning softer still. “I wonder… will you have your mother’s eyes? Will you share her smile?” His gaze flickered up to meet yours, and his hand briefly left your belly to trace along your jawline, his thumb brushing your lower lip. “I hope so. For she is the fairest thing in all of Arda.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but before you could respond, the baby kicked again—this time with more insistence. Thranduil let out a quiet breath of amusement, his forehead resting lightly against your stomach. “Ah, you grow impatient already, ion nîn…(my son) or sell nîn (my daughter),” he mused, his voice laced with affection. “We shall see soon enough.” You combed your fingers through his silver hair, and he sighed softly, pressing one final lingering kiss to your belly before looking up at you once more.

His gaze held something deeper than love—something eternal. “I will protect you both,” he vowed, voice firm, resolute. “Always.” And with that, he held you close, one hand never leaving your stomach, as though he could already cradle the life within.

Thranduil’s fingers continued their slow, reverent path over your stomach, tracing idle patterns, as if committing to memory every curve, every sign of the life growing within. His touch was warm, soothing, carrying the weight of an unspoken devotion that needed no words. But he gave them to you anyway. “You are a vision,” he murmured, voice rich and low, the barest hint of awe laced within it. His gaze flickered up to meet yours, the intensity in his eyes making your breath hitch. “Even now, especially now, you are more radiant than ever.”

Before you could protest, before you could even entertain the thought of disagreeing, he leaned down once more, his lips pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your belly. And then another. His lips moved with a gentleness that sent warmth spreading through your chest. He kissed the place where your child had just kicked, a reverent touch as though in silent greeting. “Ah, little one,” he whispered, his breath fanning against your skin, “you make your presence known well. Already, you are like your mother—fierce, full of life.”

Another kiss, just above your navel. “And yet, so small still… so fragile. But fear not, my love, you will be safe, always.” His lips trailed higher, slow and unhurried, pressing feather-light kisses along your ribs, his hands still cradling the swell of your belly as though it were the most sacred thing in all of Middle-earth. Then his mouth moved to the space between your ribs and sternum, his breath warm, his lips reverent. “And you, meleth nîn,” he murmured, his voice softer now, as if speaking directly to your heart, “do you know how precious you are to me?”

He did not wait for an answer. His lips pressed against the curve of your collarbone, lingering, savoring. His hands ghosted over your sides, up your arms, pulling you closer as he continued his slow ascent. A kiss against your throat, just where your pulse beat strongest. Another along your jawline. And then—finally—his lips brushed against yours. The kiss he gave you then was deep and lingering, a silent declaration of love that words could never fully capture. He kissed you as if you were something sacred, something eternal. As if you were the very air he breathed. When he pulled back, his piercing blue gaze held you captive, raw emotion flickering within their depths. “You are everything,” he said, voice hushed, meant only for you. “Everything.”

He shifted, gathering you gently into his arms, maneuvering you so that you rested against him, your head tucked beneath his chin, your body cradled securely against his. One arm wrapped protectively around you, the other remained over your belly, palm resting possessively over the life you carried. His thumb brushed slow, rhythmic strokes over your stomach, lulling you into drowsy contentment. “Sleep, meleth nîn,” he murmured, pressing a final kiss to the top of your head. “I will watch over you.”

And so he did. The scrolls, the letters, the weight of the kingdom—all had long since been forgotten. For now, there was only this. Only you. Only the life between you. And the king who would never leave your side. And for the first time in weeks, you found sleep, safe in the arms of your king, your love, your forever.

[urrmomzfavorite]

YOUR ENERGY/VIBES- THE EFFECT ON THEM ?

psstt check my masterlist if you want more readings from me !

I also have this reading in a video format

PILE ONE:

Your energy/vibes:

Your energy is light-hearted, but I don’t think people would ever know, just by looking at you or observing you, the hardship you've been through. Pile One, you have a really nice energy—warm and light. But you've endured so much darkness and still came out on the other side smiling and believing in the world. This is a superpower. Despite life's challenges and people putting you down constantly, you remain hopeful, holding faith in humanity. People underestimate you because of your light, but they quickly realize that you’re not someone to mess with. You will always find your way, no matter what—your resilience and your heart are your superpowers. Pile One, people may try to take your light or drown you in darkness, but you need to remember: you have immense power, magic, and protection.

The Effect Your Energy Has on Them: Pile One, this person is losing sleep over you. You were a catalyst for them—someone they never thought they'd meet or believed could exist. They may have thought they could play around, but they quickly learned otherwise. This person was comfortable living in their ego, telling themselves they were untouchable. But then you came along and touched their soul. Admitting how they feel or how you make them feel is a challenge for them. This person has a big ego, and just the thought of your existence challenges it. They may flaunt their wealth and social circles online, yet still feel lonely, even with people around them. You reminded them how deeply they crave connection—something real, something deep—but it became too real for them to handle.

CHECK MY MASTER LIST FOR MORE READINGS !!

PILE TWO:

Your energy/vibes:

Pile Two, how do I say this? Your energy is mischievous. You're a smart cookie, and you have a way of making people do things while they think it's their idea. I feel like you often find yourself in the middle of conflicts, but you're the one who ends up winning. You need to win the argument—you’d make a great debater! But there’s been a shift in your energy recently; you’re growing, leaning into, and going through a "dark night of the soul" journey. You’ve realized that some of the fights you’ve been in weren’t fair. I don’t think you used to care whether they were fair or not, but now you're reflecting and seeing where you may have been wrong. Pile Two, I’m proud of you. Growth is a scary process, but you’re taking a leap of faith in hopes of bettering yourself. You want to be someone you're proud of. I applaud your courage and honesty. Remember, past mistakes don't define us—recognizing our wrongs is the first step in making things right.

The Effect Your Energy Has on Them:

Once again, Pile Two, where do I start? This person feels conflicted. They left because they feel like you’re too quick to make decisions. Leaving you was hard for them, and they didn’t enjoy the process. Since then, they've been fighting themselves to keep their distance. You want them back. You left something behind to move toward them, and they can feel your energy. They know you're coming. However, I don’t think it’s the right time to rekindle things with this person. They’re still processing the hurt and focusing on their own growth. The universe doesn’t want you to disrupt their progress. I’m not saying they wouldn’t be open to the idea of you again, but if you were to start over now, it could go south quickly. You both are mirroring each other right now.

CHECK MY MASTER LIST FOR MORE READINGS !!

PILE THREE:

Your energy/vibes:

Pile Three, my babies, guess who’s an overthinker? Let’s talk about it—can you make a decision already? Choose. JUST. CHOOSE! Okay, I’m half-joking, but seriously—your energy is wonderful. People see you as someone who’s going far in life. You’re curious about the world and knowledge. People love hearing your point of view because you really consider all the possibilities. You’re a good person, or at least you really try to be fair to everyone. You have a lot of fire in you, but you keep it balanced. You’re responsible and reliable—we can count on you.

This has nothing to do with your energy, but if you’ve been thinking about exploring the world but are feeling stuck—GO! You will flourish. There’s nothing to worry about; you can’t always be three steps ahead. It’s okay to just enjoy the moment. You exude success, and you’re either already successful or on your way toward it.

The Effect Your Energy Has on Them:Someone wants it all with you. They’re unsure if you’ll be interested, thinking that you already have everything you need and they can’t add anything to your life. They enjoy the friendly conversations, but deep down, they know there’s something more beneath your cute energy—a deep, potentially dangerous connection. But they don’t care—they still want to explore it. They’re hesitant to send you a message, worried about how it might be interpreted. You both are overthinkers. However, in their case, they want to do things the "right way." This person feels connected to you and truly sees you. This could even be a long-time friend who is in love with you. They feel a deep connection they can’t explain, and things just flow naturally when you’re together. They want a home and family with you—it’s not just a crush; they want to commit and build a future with you.

CHECK MY MASTER LIST FOR MORE READINGS !!

[xislyns]

could you please do some headcanons for benn beckman? 🙏

UGHH OFCCC i love benn sm , i actually have an upcoming mini fic containing beckman and other men in the works when writing asked this 😭, im sorry if there are typos . i wrote this during a study break 🥹🥹

BENN BECKMAN HC'S

op masterlist : 𐙚🧸ྀི

another note : this became longer than i expected 😭

HOW YOU MET

• i feel like meeting benn must be by a random encounter, when the red haired pirates had stop on your island. you were by chance walking in town. you were busy with your own errands when you noticed him leaning against a post, observing everything with a sharp yet relaxed look. Something about his quiet confidence drew you in. He noticed you too, nodding in acknowledgment as if he already respected you without even knowing you.

• The first time you talked, it’s because of a shared moment of curiosity. you were asking him about his crew, or he’s curious about something happening on the island you live on. The conversation is smooth and comfortable, leaving you both feeling like you’ve met someone reliable.

YOUR RELATIONSHIP

• Benn isn’t overly expressive like a certain red haired pirates we know.. , but he keeps an eye on you at all times. Whether it’s keeping an eye at the small of your back in a crowded place or his intimidating glare at anyone who dares to bother you, he protects you silently to him, actions speak louder than words.

• When you get angry or upset at something he did or the lack of it, expect him to know how to make you feel safe without being overbearing. When you’re upset, he doesn’t push you to talk or solve the issue right there and then. but he stays by your side, waiting for you to talk it out with him when you’re ready.

• Actually benn being as smart and strategic as he is, i feel like he would love debating with his you. He loves when you can challenge his views, instead of just nodding along and following with it. He finds it as something new and both frustrating and endearing when you are able to outsmart him in a battle of wits.

HOW DOES HE SHOW HIS LOVE?

• Benn would show his affection by subtle but caring gestures Benn shows his affection through small actions,offering you his coat when it’s cold, remembering the little things you like, or quietly helping things that he knows you cant do alone.

• His smiles are rare but reserved just for you. When you successfully make him laugh, it feels like you’ve won a victory in your book.

LIFE ON THE SHIP, AFTER YOU CAME

• The crew would love teasing Benn about how you’ve softened him. Despite his objections and grumbles, he secretly enjoys the way you’ve become a part of their family

• Late night conversations become the light of ur relationship, Benn often stays up late keeping watch or reading. You’ll find yourself sitting with him under the stars, sharing quiet moments or deep talks about life, dreams, and the future you will have together

CONFLICTS & RESOLUTIONS

• You and Benn occasionally clash over his protective instincts. He worries deeply about your safety, while you wish he’d have more faith in your ability to take care of yourself. Despite the tension, these disagreements always end in mutual understanding. he learns to respect your independence, and you have come to appreciate that level of care from him.

• Benn isn’t one to easily share his feelings. At first, it was hard to tell how deeply he cared about you, but over time, you learn to read the subtle ways he shows his love. Eventually, he grows more comfortable opening up to you, even if it’s just in his own ways.

TENDER MOMENTS

• When you’re hurt or sick, Benn is always ready to take care of you. His hands are steady as he bandages your wounds, though his eyes betray his worry. He’ll quietly scold you for being reckless, but his soft kiss on your forehead afterward tells you everything you need to know.

• Benn isn’t really one for PDA , but in private, he’s incredibly tender. He loves pulling you into his arms, resting his chin on your head, or simply sitting with you in comfortable silence.

• Even in the middle of a battlefield , you and Benn share a connection that doesn’t need words. He can sense when you’re in trouble and will make his way to your side, always ensuring you’re safe before he focuses on anything else. you are his priority.

BENN BECKMAN SUPREMACY 🛐

[mylonelylife135]

Something Important for 'My Pathetic Family' guys!

*Chapter 2 will be out by the late morning!*

*YOU WILL BE ABLE TO MAKE DECISIONS BASED ON POLLS SOON ONCE YOU ARE OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE IMPACTFUL DECISIONS IN THE STORY!* (This will be by chapter 3!)

*The story will be a darker centered story than most fics, so it will be steered in a certain direction. However, your decisions and what you decide to do or learn will decide whether you succeed in your goals or not!*

*You can either choose to do dumb shit, some heinous ass shit or maybe do something nice for a character if you don't secretly hate them! You'll probably get an option to do something funny occasionally if you're feeling petty with a character.*

*That or you can try to learn new things as you get older. This will be mainly for when you are younger cause kids are curious and so are you!*

*You're going to have to be a bit older to actually try and do heinous ass shit. No offense, but you ain't committing crimes at 6 years old guys💀*

*RELATIONSHIP STATUS* (This will start next chapter!)

An integral part of the story, they will start to be shown every chapter and when a new character is introduced in the family and maybe some other characters if you get to meet them.

PLOT TWIST!

I'm showing how much YOU like The Batfam, what you think of them and if you love them, hate them, if you think they're mean or scary or anything like that. YOUR FEELINGS MATTER TOO IN THIS STORY GUYS! If they didn't this would be a very boring fic 😭

You want to know how the others feel about you? Tooo badddd. (It also might be too many numbers to remember and will get overwhelming to remember, especially if it's changing every chapter. Sorry guys but we both gotta keep our sanity.)

So, numbers! We all love Numbers!

0-15/100: you barely know the person. You probably aren't comfortable around them and you wouldn't be able to pick them out from a crowd.

20-30/100: you're aware of them, you don't think of them as a friend or anything, barely an acquaintance, let alone family.

40-50/100: You know the person, what they like and dislike; you might even like them a little or respect them. They're an acquaintance at best.

50-55/100: They're almost a friend, you both know each other, maybe you both have something you enjoy in common and talk often. There's a good chance you'll hang out now that you know eachother better if given the chance.

55-60/100: Congrats, you're friends! A normal, healthy relationship!

60-80/100: Getting closer, I see? You're starting to care about this character a lot and like being around them. You might even share your vulnerabilities with them if you ever open up.

80-90/100: You love them very deeply and would be saddened if they died or got hurt, you might also cling to them and only really be around this person instead of others you don't know as well.

100/100: I don't think you wanna get here, you might become a bit too obsessed with the person.

If you get to 100%, the story could potentially end. You're the yandere at this point, my guy. You're the problem. A second chance can be given.

*Unless you are still young, you can't do shit to the characters then unless you're like Damian.*

*Spoiler: You ain't built THAT kind of different. Damian is Damian and you are you.*

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're all so funny and attractive, but wait! What if it's the other way around and the numbers go in the negatives?

The answer is: Not good my friends! Not good for you or the character!

It's very important that you have a good relationship with characters.

However, if the characters are mean, insulting, or they even attempt to sabotage or hurt you?

You'll grow to dislike this person. You might even grow to hate them or worse, want to hurt them.

-5/100: You don't really know them but don't like them because of an interaction, wondering why they weren't nice or maybe insulted you. An apology would bring this back to zero.

-10 or -15/100: You're starting to wonder if you did anything wrong, if you weren't mean to them you'll become slightly annoyed and might not want to be in their presence shortly after a bad interaction. This can be fixed if the character apologizes or is a bit nicer.

-20/100: You're starting to become frustrated with this person after repeated bad interactions with them, at this point if the character also has bad interactions with a character you are friends with it will go down further. An apology alone won't fix this.

-30/100: You now start to dread seeing this person or interacting with them, expecting the worst after insults or even more bad interactions. You remember what they've done and you won't forget it either.

-40/100: You start avoiding this person and will now start to hate them. You've learned by now that they won't stop being mean, insulting you or throwing jabs at you.

-50/100: Alright so this is where it's gonna start getting bad. A character can get this low with you if they attack you. (I think you know who would do this. It's literally a trope at this point in every fic I've seen with the neglectful batfam.) You will start to hate them even more and will start insulting them under your breath or start wishing ill on them, their actions towards you will lower even more at a faster rate.

Unless the character has a brain tumor that's making them act irrationally, it's only going to get harder for a character to get out of this percentage without a very good justification or unless they are actively trying to make things right.

-60/100: You start planning on how to get the characters to mess up on missions and start sabotaging them, potentially getting them hurt or in dangerous situations.

-70/100: You are actively sabotaging the characters equipment, missions and information in the hopes of getting them hurt.

It's very easy at this stage to go lower to the -80s immediately, 70s is entirely skippable simply due to how much you hate them.

-80/100: You are actively planning on how to hurt the character or worse. It would take a miracle for you to get out of this state into a less dangerous one. At this point, one more major bad action or a major bad interaction can make you go to 90% instantly.

-90/100: You act out the plan on how to hurt the character and attempt to do so. Whether you succeed on hurting them depends in your skills.

-100/100: You've gotten to the point that you hate this character so much that you snap and take matters into your own hands.

If this happens, the story can potentially end right here as there is no going back from what you did to the character. Or a second chance can be given.

You might also be wondering: can we stop this from happening?

Kind of. You can avoid characters so the meters don't go too high or too low. However, if the meter is in the high negatives at this point it will be up to the character to try and change the relationship for the better because at this point you will most likely not be interested in being kind towards a character you wish ill will on.

TLDR: You can make dumb decisions, heinous ass decisions, funny decisions, learn new stuff. 1 to 100 is good, -1 to -100 is not good. The character or you can be fucked if it goes to 100% or -100% unless you're too young to do anything. You can kind of stop it. Good luck guys. You can also become a yandere cause why not everyone else can why not you?

[thinkingotherwise]

Okay I read Wind Breaker With Sakura haruka Older sister but.. BUT.. What about Sakura Younger sister With Bofurin (Kiryu,Sou,Nerei, taiga Umemiya, Hiigari, Ren, Sugishita, Kotoha,Tsubakino ) and Shishitoren.(Togame, Choji, Sako, Kanuma,Arima, Inugami)

Sakura haruka Younger sister

Who admires her Older brother very much and is clingy to him

Who's the "Nurse" Of Bofurin and Shishitoren (since there friends already 🫶) and would treat there wounds( what's that you guys got hurt? nurse y/n is here to help!)

Who isn't a damsel in distress and would fight back

Who's very smiling and friendly but turns into a Beast and beat anyone who mistreat her friends and brother

Who admire hiiragi Very much because he save her(One summer before Sakura and her transfer to Bofurin) but doesn't remember her(which she's alright with that)

Who's fighting style is mixed(Kick boxing, And Break dancing)

Who loves to cook and would pack lunch for her brother (and hiragi and ren)

Who is scary when mad

Who isn't really Sakura haruka Younger sister but Both saw each other as siblings

Who as a child and in middle school got bullied because of her red hair but learn to love it(Thanks to Haruka and Hiiragi)

Who likes to tease her friends but would be gentle with them

Who loves going to cake shop with Kota and would often hand out just to visit shops

Who gets along with Ren and would listen to music with him

Who's a gamer like Kiryu and would often okay late at night

Who like to work out By boxing and would after ask Taiga to train

Who shares information about her brother to nerei

Who enjoy tea with Sou

Who Gets into fight with sugishita because he can see he dislikes her brother

Who loves it when Sakura would be overprotective of her

Likes to play shogi and go with togame

Would tease kanume(Nickname Meme-chan) hehehe

Would bring Choji some red bean from his fav bakery

Sakura haruka younger sister who wants to help her brother becomes top One

It's alright if it's hard! And you don't wanna do it!

I'm after a bit longer break and hopefully with recharged energy for some new ideas and stories.

I grouped some things and changed the order around to match it a little more with the headcanons I wrote.

HC being Haruka Sakura's younger sister

(In one of those reader is said to have red hair)

Who isn't really Sakura Haruka's younger sister but both saw each other as siblings Who admires her older brother very much and is clingy to him Who loves it when Sakura would be overprotective of her

Even if Haruka wasn't your biological older brother you somehow ended up looking up to him.

Well, he always would be your stupid and overprotective brother. But how could you not admire him even a little when he helped you whenever you pestered him long enough about it?

Making you look really clingy but it just so happened that he was a magnet for fun and adrenaline-inducting situations, and you liked it.

Who's the "Nurse" Of Bofurin and Shishitoren (since they are friends already 🫶) and would treat their wounds (what's that you guys got hurt? Nurse y/n is here to help!) Who likes to tease her friends but is gentle with them

You were curious about Shishitoren, as soon as your brother talked about the fights and came back home with bruises. You listened to him attentively dabbing the blood away from his face and placing the band-aids all over him.

Of course, the little information he gave you was not enough, and soon you found yourself following him into the Shishitoren territory. He sighed deeply looking at your excited steps and he already regretted agreeing to introduce you to the guys.

Tomiyama was so happy to see another Sakura and he bounced around you with a beaming smile while asking if you also fought. The Shishitoren lot was surprised to learn that you dubbed as a nurse for Haruka and the rest of Bofurin.

They joked about stealing you away from them whenever they got injured making your brother glare at them with a scrunched-up face.

This got you some new teasing material for whenever the Furin students got under your skin. You would simply state the possibility of being a full-time nurse for Shishitoren and that would shut up everyone so easily.

You actually got along really well with Arima and Kanuma. The 'got along' part was heavily skewed as in reality you loved teasing each other and took every possibility you could to do that.

Who is scary when mad Who isn't a damsel in distress and would fight back Who's fighting style is mixed (kickboxing and break dancing) Who's very smiling and friendly but turns into a beast and beats anyone who mistreats her friends and brother

Being the nurse of Bofurin obviously, you knew how to fight, just you preferred not to use it without much reason. The fact that your brother or some other student was often with you meant you also didn't need to show off your skills as they were the first to protect you.

However, there were a few times when gossip ran around the school, saying you beat up some people. Some thought the gossip was a little too much and you wouldn't touch anyone leaving fighting to your brother.

That is until some guys started calling names Haruka and some of your friends, mocking them and throwing some trash in their direction.

The sound of your fist connecting with their face was so loud you could hear the gasps of people behind you.

Your style of fighting was really something, slightly similar to Haruka but still so distinct. The kickboxing mixed with break-dancing moves made you look as if you were performing. They would think it was a scripted fight, if not for the state you left the guys in.

Who as a child and in middle school got bullied because of her red hair but learned to love it (thanks to Haruka and Hiiragi) Who admires Hiiragi very much because he saved her (one summer before Sakura and her transfer to Bofurin) but doesn't remember her (which she's alright with)

The red colour of your hair was something you used to hate, you would probably start dyeing it soon enough. Thankfully, for the two people you didn't have to.

You were so grateful to your brother and Hiiragi for making you realize it wasn't as bad as you thought.

It was mostly thanks to Haruka who also had trouble with bullies that talked about his hair. Your late-night conversations about the issue both of you encountered were helpful enough and you found even more admiration for him thanks to that.

As for Hiiragi, you couldn't forget the older boy who helped you after one of the school days. He noticed some of, who he assumed were your schoolmates, as they followed after you making fun of you and trying to throw their leftovers over your head in hopes of covering your red hair.

He strode towards them with his scowl, yelling at them and getting ready to fight them, which he obviously didn't have to do as they ran away. Hiiragi scared them quite well as they didn't follow you anymore.

You, however, were in awe, especially when all he did after that was patting you on your head and saying he really liked your hair.

You were a little disappointed not being able to see the man who helped you in the future weeks, only when Haruka entered Bofurin you had the possibility to see him.

He got very flustered after you reminded him about the encounter, trying to keep you quiet about it, in case Umemiya heard it. He knew if such happened, the top of Bofurin wouldn't leave him alone.

Who loves to cook and would pack lunch for her brother (and Hiragi and Ren)

You sometimes sacrificed your sleep, waking up earlier than usual to make some breakfast for Haruka.

If not for you, you were certain he would live on fast foods or pre-made food from convenience stores. Thankfully you were so nice as to provide him home-cooked dishes.

Almost every time with the lunch for your brother you prepared two additional boxes for Hiiragi and Ren.

When Haruka asked about them you offhandedly replied you made too much and had to do something with the food.

You passed the two older boys on your way to school. Smile on your face as a greeting, you ran up to them to gift them the bentos.

As Hiiragi realized it might have something to do with the story you shared about him saving you. Ren never understood why you would make him food, but he was grateful nonetheless. Eating everything you prepared and cleaning the box before they both gave them back to you saying how good they were.

Who loves going to cake shop with Kota and would often hang out just to visit shops

Lacking inspiration for deserts to make at home you went out to hunt for it by tasting the ones prepared by different bakeries.

During one such outing, you noticed a familiar face. Kota's eyes widened seeing you joining his table.

He made you swear you would tell others about it and in return he showed you all the best sweets he knew in the nearby area, making your list of things to try and bake at home enormous.

It became your habit to contact him whenever you craved something new and he never disappointed in providing something truly mouthwatering.

Would bring Choji some red bean from his fav bakery

After learning that Tomiyama was a fellow sweet enthusiast you started bringing him, his favourites with red bean filling, each time you came to Shishitoren.

He loved it so much that he became the main voice, once more, to say they should just steal you away from Bofurin and Haruka, and keep you to themselves.

You could even become his little sister if you were to bring him more sweets.

Who gets along with Ren and listens to music with him

Getting so many bentos from you he was thinking about ways to make it up to you.

So when you asked him about some songs he listened to and if he wanted to share with you, he took it seriously.

He prepared lists and lists of different songs, divided by genres and vibes that you later listened to together and shared opinions about them. Just to find the perfect one you would enjoy the most.

Who's a gamer like Kiryu and would often play late at night

Despite waking early to make food for you and your brother you made some time for a little nighttime gaming.

You found a friend for such an activity in Kiryuu, making both of you unstoppable when you were on the same team. Not only destroying them with your skills but your trash talk as well.

However, when you did lose your voice would carry through a room with a wave of irritation and rage.

Then, in an instant, your brother would appear at your door yelling for you to be quiet and go to sleep making Kiryuu erupt in laughter hearing everything.

Who shares information about her brother with Nirei

One glance at him when he was writing in his little book was all it took for you to immediately take an interest in it.

When he told you about the information he collected on fighters your interest was piqued.

You made a deal with him to share all he wanted to know about your brother in exchange for details about Hiiragi and any other tidbits that could be used as teasing material.

Who likes to work out by boxing and would later ask Taiga to train

The best way you had to keep in shape for eventual fights was boxing. It helped you not only in the aforementioned but also with unloading some stress and anger.

After getting to know from Nirei all about how Taiga knew a guy who owned a small gym and worked out regularly you decided to ask him about helping you train.

He was delighted to hear about your request and agreed without much thought.

You were amazed at how good of an instructor he was, and how simple but on-point his instructions were.

Who enjoys tea with Sou

The world of tea was so big, that you never expected for so many different kinds to exist.

You also didn't believe it was possible to find a perfect blend for someone just by looking at them, yet Sou did it.

Hearing that you enjoyed drinking tea, he hummed in approval asking if you liked a certain kind. He thought you would enjoy it.

You confessed to never trying it, and would you know it wasn't long before he brought this specific blend and instructed you on how to make it.

The first sip brought you to heaven, literally. You never tasted such delicious tea, and the next time you saw Suo you told him so.

He was proud of that and whenever you came to Bofurin he, much to your bewilderment because where did he stash all the necessary stuff, started preparing different teas that the both of you could enjoy while others watched it happen in shock and envy.

Who gets into fights with Sugishita because she can see he dislikes her brother

You were the only one who could tease your brother or argue with him when he made you irritated.

You took it to heart and fought Sugishita whenever he so much as glared at Haruka.

Knowing he wouldn't fight back, physically at least because you were a girl and younger at that, you started using your words, scolding and calling him out.

How surprised he was to have you praise him and pat his head teasingly when he helped your brother during fights.

Likes to play shogi with Togame

Any game with Togame seemed as if it wasn't really. It must be some kind of joke, maybe you were in a hidden camera.

You were so sure he must have been cheating because come on. How is it possible you lost every and each game you played with him.

And it's not that you were bad at them you specifically brought some other people to play with the two of you and you actually weren't that bad.

You swore you'd someday beat him and that made your blood pumping. Joy spreading through you even if you only thought about the moment it would happened.

Would tease Kanume (nickname Meme-chan) hehehe

Getting along so well with him, you would be texting so frequently. But it was far from the normal messaging style.

You used his chat as a way to send stuff that made you laugh and you wanted to save, for future.

In return, he always sent you memes making you change his nickname to Meme-chan.

It was hard to find any coherent conversation in your chat, as you were communicating mostly through gifs, emojis, and memes.

Sakura Haruka's younger sister who wants to help her brother become the top in Bofurin

Would you be lying if you said that you started as a nurse for Bofurin because you were worried about your brother? Absolutely not, despite your frequent siblings' spats and teasing you wanted to show him your support with his dream.

This big dream of his, which seemed a little impossible and exaggerated at first, made you doubt if he would be able to fully achieve it.

But with time you reaffirmed his skills at doing so and soon proudly, and a little jokingly, presented yourself as the younger sister of the future top of Bofurin.

[missmurbertime]

Reader: is reading a book and giving no one any attention because it’s a REALLY good book

Sans: he kinda leans to read. But also kinda hovers. He doesn’t want to admit he wants your attention. But also is desperate for those small curious glances that you give him from time to time when you see him from the corner of your eye. He wants to know what your read. But he won’t ask. Never! But he WANTS to

Red: his first thought is to snatch the book. But no. Last time he did that you smacked him on the arm with it and was moody for days. Plus he understand reading. Even if you don’t look at him much at first. Deeply sucked into whatever you’re reading. That he STILL DOESNT know the name of. So he starts by tossing of off his hoodie to get your attention. Or accidentally bumping your knee. Or just bitching to catch your attention. Hey. No one said he was good at this.

Blue: part of him is deeply curious about the book. Noting the flush of your cheeks and your sparkling eyes as you read. He is sooooooooo curious. But the other part is distracted by the way you sit there. Legs shifting from time to time. Focused and oblivious to the world around you. That moment is beautiful to him. Just as you always are of course but the stillness is like the perfect painting. And if he snaps a few pictures no one knows…for a while until he brags in the skele-group chat.

Horror: you’re not looking at him. You’re looking at that book again. His head is a little fuzzy. Sometimes he remembers books. Science. The joy in learned. But it’s mostly hazy. He just focuses on you and cooking now. Sometimes the others. But you keep his attention in the now. And without it he feels like he is floating away. So. In the most normal (totally not like a cat but yes Bb. You are) he tries to sit close. Then closer. Then leaning. Then shifting. Almost trying to get into your lap. He can’t fit. He knows that. But he keeps trying anyway. Pushing his head under the book until you put it to the side with a laugh and cup his face. Ahhh yes. Your focus. He is happy.

Killer: he never really cared for books that he knows of. Nothing outside science. But damn if the way you are focused on yours doesn’t bring it back. He isn’t much for fantasy books. But he likes when you’re happy. And he knows that flush anywhere. You’re reading something DAMN good. So he won’t interrupt. After all. There is time. And maybe he can get you to show him some of what you’re reading later~ in the quiet of the night.

Dust: he likes it when it’s like this. You quiet with your book. Sometimes the sounds overwhelm him. Brings back bad stuff. But he feels calm when he is close to you like this. Nothing lasts forever. God if he doesn’t know that. But with you, time seems to freeze. And he enjoys it. He likes it. So he just sits. He lays his head on your lap. And calmly rests awhile. God knows you both need it.

Nightmare: he is curious ok. Fucking curious. A book! Of all things holding your attention it’s a book! He can feel your emotions and they are all happy and wild over a book! He is right there! HE should be your attention. He should! He is the king of negativity! The prince of darkness! And…pouting like a child. BUT YOY SHOULD STILL BE FOCUSED ON HIM DAMMIT. his tentacles writhe and he growls. Poking and prodding at you. Look at him! Not the book! HIM! Him!!! But then you do look. And you eye him in a different way that normal. He isn’t sure why to do. You mumble something about his huge size. And then about a character? Something something. He is thrown off. So he huffs and complains and sits with you. He is off his game now. But you’re holding his hand. So..that’s something.

Error: no one appreciates a good drama more than he does. And the same can be said for books. He is curious though what yours is. It looks like fantasy. It looks like it has wings on it. But you’re in too deep to be disturbed. On the other hand. He knows it’s nearing midnight and you haven’t eaten anything for awhile. He is a genius though! So he makes you and himself a hot chocolate. And he feels good when you give him a warm appreciative smile. Finally though he can’t take it and leans on your shoulder. Reading the book with you.

Sci: he is calm. Of course he is. He has more patience than anyone else in this damn house. He is a sans. And while they are all varied, he knows patience intimately. He knows everyone has been eyeing you. (All the sanses here. Of course they want you to focus on them) he also knows they are all dying to know what you’re reading. So. He just sits down. Waiting for you to acknowledge him. “What are you reading, my dear?” He is polite. He can be charming if he wants to. And that little flush from the nickname always makes his magic rush. And when you answer he laughs. A book about fairies. A beauty and the beast style take on fairy kings and kingdoms. He then reminds you to take time to take care of yourself. Because of course they all care. And leaves you to your book. Idly, he wonders if he should bring one of the Fae sanses here. A smirk playing on his teeth at the thought of it. There would be even more competition for your attention (nothing severe. They all tend to mesh quite easily) but you’d probably blush and that would be oh sooooo worth it. So he pulls out his phone. Planning on having the summer and winter kings of the fae visit. Next week will be fun~

[softmangoes]

sweater weather | brahms heelshire x reader

18+ only

summary: you ask brahms to knit a sweater for you. he gets excited.

includes: edging, slight manipulation, possessive + jealous brahms

author's note: pls let me know what you think! i love this wall boy so much 💕

@buggwritesmain here you go! tagging you as requested ☺️

-

one night, as you tangle your fingers in his hair, you ask brahms if he would ever knit you a sweater.

"yes," he says after a moment, voice muffled by his mask. "you would like that?" his eyes are curious, a light jade in the glow of the morning sun.

"just for me," you tell him. in the space between the walls, you had seen the hanks of wool and the long wooden needles. throughout the room, there were scarves, socks, a few sweaters. before you, he must have had a lot of spare time spent carefully weaving rows of soft fabric to brave the cold winters.

"of course," he curls himself into your embrace, tangling his legs with yours. the old bed creaks at the shifting of weight. "i would never dream of making one for anyone else."

he's been talking more often, you've noticed. when your relationship had started to sprout to what it was now, he would rarely speak and usually it was to beckon you closer. he could never stand not being around you, after all.

you think it's endearing. in the time he yearned for you in the darkness, had he ever tried to practice what he would say to you? for a moment, you imagine him whispering in the quiet of the night as you slept, thinking of what he would do if he could have you.

the thought makes you hold him tighter.

he lets out a small, satisfied sound at the sensation of his hair being pulled. earlier today, you had entered the house to find him in a mood again. no matter how many times you had asked what was wrong, he refused to tell you. right now, it seemed like whatever had bothered him had subsided. at least for the moment.

"quite the romantic, aren't you?" a fond smile spreads across your face. hearing him flirt was something that was still new to you. "someone's been reading his new books."

through your fingertips, you felt rather than saw the blush that spread up his neck.

this close to him, you could hear the faint sound of him licking his lips.

"i've learned more than just that," he said, pride seeping into his voice. below the blanket, you feel his knee press in between your legs. "would you like me to demonstrate?"

the next day, brahms gently wraps the measuring tape around your bicep. you're both in his hovel - recently cleaned and organized thanks to your insistence and his grumbling. this part of the house hasn't been completely sealed from the elements, so there's a slight draft that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"you're cold," he says, the warmth of his fingers trailing lightly across your collarbone as he measures your shoulders. it's tempting to lean into his touch, but he instructed you to keep still.

"w-we should move inside," you breathe deeply, trying your best to keep your teeth from chattering. the manor was warm and you had packed the fireplace with fresh wood just an hour ago. surely it would be fine to take your measurements there, wouldn't it?

"no." there's a sweet note to his voice, almost self-satisfied. "i want us to be here."

and when he says that, without any hint of sympathy, you realize you've been tricked.

"you're enjoying this, aren't you?" from making strange noises during your first month at the manor to taking your things, brahms could be mischievous whenever the mood struck him. standing so close to him in the cold draft, you were certain this was one of those times.

it must be thrilling, you think, for him to see you all vulnerable like this.

you suppress the urge to shiver. instead, you bite the inside of your cheek as you ask, "what's really happening here?"

"it's simple," he says, tightening the tape around your abdomen. the length of ribbon is cool against your body. just a breath away, you could feel the warmth emanating from his skin.

you had never had something custom made, but you were sure that the process of creating an item didn't require him to be this close to you.

"whenever you feel cold," the tape loosens, falls, and is replaced by his hands, the heat in his palms chasing away the prickles on your skin. "i want you to think of me."

his eyes intensify and you realize you are stuck in the web he's woven for you.

"brahms?" you ask, although any sense in him is gone.

"the other day, the errand boy draped his jacket over you in the garden," he says, his palms drifting to cup the soft curves of your bra possessively. "i saw it," he hisses. "and you came back reeking of him."

"hey," you start, realizing why he had been sulking the other day. he only ever played mozart loud when he was upset and you had to pry him from the shadows between the walls by promising you'd spend the whole day curled up in bed with him. "that didn't - "

it didn't mean anything. but that wouldn't matter now. not to brahms.

"am i not good enough for you?" his voice quakes. there's a note of warning despite its softness. his thumbs make slow circles around your nipples, the pressure of it made agonizing by the cloth separating his touch from your skin. "is that it?"

"brahms," you say his name gently, looking up into his glistening green eyes. your voice is level. steady. it's what he needs when he gets like this. "if you're going to speak to me like that, i have to see your face."

he pauses. you had an agreement that you would only have serious conversations with him unmasked and he had never broken it once. after a moment, he slips off the ceramic shell and sets it aside. a single tear falls from his eye lash onto his cheek. he's so beautiful, this strange man, and he's all yours.

you reach to hold his face in your palm.

"silly boy," you tell him. "you're the only one who can touch me like this."

this time, thankfully, the rage subsides. his gaze softens. in the end, he was always so full of hunger and you know how to keep him fed.

"only me," he says under his breath. "me."

slowly, you guide his hands to unclasp your bra, breathing a sigh of relief as his hot tongue licks into the hollow of your neck.

"only you," you tell him, like it's a promise.

with ease, he hefts you into his arms and lays you onto his cot. the new mattress is soft under your back.

in a moment, he's all over you. his mouth finds the hard bud of your nipple and his hand cups your other breast. you squirm at the feeling of his tongue lapping at you, your hips bucking at the open air.

"mine," he says hungrily. his mouth away from your skin feels like agony. the slick wetness of your exposed skin is too cold.

you need more.

"if you want to be good to me," you tell him. "then you better warm me up."

obediently, brahms slips off your lounge pants and underwear off with ease, wasting no time to slide his tongue along your slit.

you whine at the contact, running your fingers through his soft curls as he laps at your wetness.

he pulls away, his mouth glistening from your pleasure.

"my love is cold," he says, slipping two fingers inside of you. the pressure ignites a lick of heat within your core and you bite the end of your moan. "only i can warm you." your hold tightens on his hair. "only i can give you what you need."

brahms licks at your clit, but he doesn't move his fingers. he wants you to want him, so you fuck yourself against his knuckles. you rut against his beautiful mouth.

he gasps softly against your skin as your thighs squeeze his face.

when you come, shaking and whimpering his name over and over, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers.

"look at you shivering." he laughs, satisfied that he could ruin you like this. brahms sheds his tank top, pushes his pants down. "i can help you," he says. "i can be so good for you."

god, he's stunning. there's a litheness to his body - graceful muscle sculpted from agile years spent quietly sneaking through the shadows.

you want to shut him up. to eat him. you want to pull him down to you and take his neck between your teeth. but when he enters you in one long slide, body pressed against yours, all you can do is gasp.

"that is what you said, right?" he murmurs into the hollow of your neck as he dips his hips deep into you. "only i can touch you like this."

"i have to teach you a lesson," you wrap your legs around him. "about that mouth of yours."

when he pulls away to look at your face, you crush your mouth to his, sinking your teeth into his lip.

"mmph," he trembles, whining softly at the taste of you. before he had made himself known to you, he had fantasized many times about bringing his lips to yours. although you kissed him often, the thrill had never left him.

as the pressure builds again within your core, he pauses before resuming his pace. you rake your nails across his back, eliciting a deep groan from him. the brat was edging you.

"i don't want to stop," he gasps. "you're so perfect and you're mine you're mine you're mine - " he punctuates each repetition with a thrust of his hips and all you can do is hold him.

"come undone with me," he begs, sweat slicking his chest. "i need it, there's nothing else -"

"brahms," you breathe and the sound of his name is all it takes to make him shudder.

when you come, he kisses you deeply, pumping his warmth into you as you shake beneath him.

"i love you," he says, twitching inside of you. "tell me you love me."

"i love you," you tell him, brushing his hair from his face as the post-orgasm glow warms the both of you. there's a moment he spends just staring at you, as if he can't believe you're there in his arms. "did you even keep track of my measurements?"

he laughs. it's a gentle sound - one you wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your days.

"i suppose we'll have to do this again," he says, his eyes bright and beautiful. he nuzzles into your neck, lips soft as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. "but for now, let me be the one to keep you warm."

[dioslesbianwife]

You know what the Jojo's needs a Zeppeli partner it's in their dna that a jojo's get a Zeppeli but now they are in a relationship whoud they be protective knowing what happens to most of the Zeppeli's.

(I just love the Zeppeli family so zesty so Italian I love them and supportive)

Whoud they have a stand or just hamon or spin 🤔

ooh sure, i hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting <3333

Jojos x Zeppeli reader

Jonathan Joestar

The moment he realizes you're a Zeppeli, he's both honored and worried.

He knows what happened to Will A. Zeppeli, and he is determined to keep history from repeating.

Jonathan is naturally protective, but with you, it's even stronger.

If you use Hamon, he trains with you constantly, he wants to make sure you're strong enough to survive.

In a fight, he will shield you no matter what. Even if you’re strong, he hates the idea of losing you like he lost so much already.

He tells you every day that he loves you and cherishes every moment together.

Joseph Joestar

"OH NO. YOU’RE A ZEPELLI?!"

He’s already got Zeppeli PTSD from what happened with Caesar, and now he’s dating one?!

He pretends he’s chill, but he’s hyper-aware of your safety at all times.

You better believe he’s teaching you every trick in the book if you use Hamon.

If you have a Stand, he’ll make sure you’re trained and battle-ready.

But deep down? He’s scared. He doesn’t want another Zeppeli to die on his watch.

He’s way more protective than usual and covers it up with jokes.

"You’re not allowed to die, got it?! That’s an order from the great Joseph Joestar!"

Jotaro Kujo

He may not show it much, but the moment he hears your last name, he’s wary.

He’s a man of logic, but he can’t ignore the pattern- Zeppelis die helping Joestars.

You will be his number one priority in a fight.

If you have Hamon, he lowkey doesn’t believe in it much, but he won’t dismiss it.

If you have Spin, he respects it but insists that you still carry a weapon or learn self-defense.

If you have a Stand, he wants you to train with him to be strong enough to handle threats alone.

Extremely protective, but he won’t smother you. He just watches and steps in when needed.

If something even slightly dangerous happens to you? He’s ruthless toward the enemy.

Josuke Higashikata

"Wait, like Caesar Zeppeli?! Joseph told me about him…"

He doesn’t immediately realize the Zeppeli Curse™ but once he hears about it? Oh, he’s paranoid.

Very protective, very affectionate, but won’t suffocate you.

If you have a Stand, he’s so relieved because it means you can properly fight alongside him.

If you have Spin, he thinks it’s the coolest thing ever and asks you to teach him how it works.

But he has one strict rule: You are NOT allowed to sacrifice yourself for him.

If you ever try? He’ll break down and do anything to save you.

Giorno Giovanna

Doesn't know anything about the Zeppeli curse.

If you have Hamon, he’s intrigued by how it interacts with Gold Experience.

If you have a Stand, he personally helps you develop it to its fullest potential.

If you have Spin, he’s absolutely fascinated and would respect the technique deeply.

If you tell him about your ancestors, Giorno ensures you are NEVER in a situation where you’d have to sacrifice yourself.

Jolyne Cujoh

"Damn, you really got the short end of the stick, huh?"

She jokes about it, but she’s actually terrified.

If you use Hamon, she thinks it’s badass.

If you have a Stand, she personally spars with you to make sure you can hold your own.

If you use Spin, she’s fascinated but makes sure you also have other means to fight.

Jolyne is very protective but respects your strength.

But if anyone even breathes a threat toward you? They’re done for.

Johnny Joestar

"Oh, great. Another person fate wants dead."

He hates the idea that you might be doomed just for being a Zeppeli.

If you use Spin, he personally trains with you and makes sure you can handle yourself.

If you use Hamon, he’s curious about how it interacts with Tusk.

If you have a Stand, he sees it as an extra layer of protection for you.

Johnny refuses to let fate take you. He knows what it’s like to lose people- he won’t let it happen again.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Another character you’d have to tell about the Zeppelis

"…You’re not gonna die on me, right?"

He’s interested if you have any information about his past.

He’s got enough mysteries in his life, but he does NOT like the idea of fate targeting you.

If you have Hamon or Spin, he finds it fascinating and really respects it.

If you have a Stand, he’s even more protective, making sure it’s powerful enough to keep you safe.

He doesn’t talk about it much, but he’s always watching your back.

He might not be able to change fate, but he’s going to try.

[belit0]

The Uchiha, including Indra, have a couple with incredibly powerful psychic powers.

So many possibilities...

Indra

Indra is a man of logic, discipline, and absolute control. At first, he regards (Y/N)'s abilities with cold scrutiny, analyzing their nature and limitations like a scholar studying a rare phenomenon.

But when he witnesses the sheer magnitude of her power—when her mind bends reality, when her thoughts fracture the air itself—something curious stirs within him.

Respect. Intrigue. Perhaps even a flicker of awe.

He has never met someone who can challenge him in ways beyond the physical. She is not a warrior in the traditional sense, but in her own way, she is as fearsome as any warrior he commands.

His expressions are always controlled, unreadable, but (Y/N) knows when she has shaken him. Knows it in the silence that lingers after she reaches into his mind without touching him.

He does not allow many to step into his personal space, but when she does—when she dares to trace her fingers along his face, her presence slipping into his consciousness like a whisper—he exhales, slow and measured.

-You are unlike anything I have encountered,- he murmurs one night, studying her as one would a celestial event, something rare, something dangerous.

And for once, he does not mean it as an insult.

Madara

Madara has seen power—wielded it, crushed men beneath it—but (Y/N)’s strength is something else.

It is invisible, intangible. Thoughts that ripple through reality, bending it to her will.

He finds it both exhilarating and infuriating.

At first, he wants to test it, push her to places she may not fully grasp. He wants to understand—to see the edges of her strength.

But the moment someone dares to look at her with fear or disrespect? Death is immediate.

-Do you understand what you are?- he asks her once, voice low, eyes burning with something unreadable. -What you could be?-

He does not fear her power. He reveres it. But he will never allow others to use her as a pawn. She is his.

And he makes sure the world knows it.

Izuna

Izuna is utterly enchanted. Not just by her power—but by her.

The way she smirks right before she sends a man flying across the battlefield without touching him. The way she tilts her head, feigning innocence, while reading his thoughts before he can even speak.

-That’s not fair,- he groans dramatically when she dodges his attacks effortlessly, her psychic foresight keeping her a step ahead.

But he loves it. Loves the challenge. Loves the way her presence sparks something reckless and wild in his chest.

He tests her limits—not in a cruel way, but in a playful, relentless way.

-Can you really sense what I’m thinking, or are you just guessing?- He leans in close, voice dropping. -Because if you can, sweetheart, you’d know exactly what I’m picturing right now.-

She shoves him back with her mind, and he laughs. Loudly.

But there are moments—rare, fleeting—where she catches something softer beneath the bravado. A flicker of amazement.

Obito

Obito is fascinated but also deeply insecure.

(Y/N) is not just powerful—she is mind-crushingly powerful. And despite his own strength, there is always that nagging doubt in the back of his mind.

-You can probably read everything I’m thinking...- he mutters one day, voice tinged with something uncertain, gaze flickering away. -I'm probably boring for you.-

She doesn’t let him spiral. She never coddles him, but she also never makes him feel less for not being like her.

And over time, he learns to trust it.

When she casually lifts boulders with her mind? He gapes. -Okay, yeah, that’s just showing off.-

But secretly? He thinks it’s the coolest thing ever.

Shisui

Shisui is completely unbothered by her power.

In fact, he loves it.

-Oh, you can throw people around with your mind? Fucking hot.-

He’s already powerful himself, so he doesn’t feel the need to prove anything. Instead, he just enjoys her abilities.

-I can imagine a few things we could do with that power of yours- No? Ah... had to try-

However, there are times when he watches her with something deeper in his gaze. When she overuses her power, when she wavers from exhaustion—he is there, steady, unfaltering.

He’s always been good at making people feel safe. And for all her strength, he knows she needs that, too.

Itachi

Itachi is intensely curious about her abilities.

He asks the most precise questions—how it works, how she experiences it, what the limits are.

He watches everything. The way her breathing shifts when she concentrates. The way her eyes darken when she pushes too hard.

-Power like yours is…- He trails off, gaze flickering to hers, searching for something unspoken. -It does not belong in careless hands.-

He respects her power. Reveres it. But most of all—

He worries.

Because he knows power always comes with a price.

And he does not want her to bear it alone.

[metalomagnetic]

Hii how would you describe Sirius's and V's relationship in 'It runs in the blood?' Is it based mostly on manipulations? And how could V ever love Sirius? 

I started reading your fic and so far I really enjoy your writing and your ways of characterization especially regarding the Black family and their dynamics. What I'm interested in however is why did you decide to pair the two together and why would someone like V ever became interested in someone like Sirius? No criticism just curious about your thoughts.

Even if there was manipulation involved in the relationship, that doesn't mean the feelings aren't genuine.

I decided to pair them together because I was curious how they'd work, in what way, what circumstances. I like to challenge my writing with rare pairs.

Why would someone like V become interested in Sirius? Well, Sirius is incredibly charismatic, he's handsome, he's intelligent, he comes from a powerful family with an ancient name, he's ruthless but he also has this shred of goodness in him that interests Voldemort, yet Sirius' morals are so lax that he wouldn't care too much about Voldemort's horrible crimes. Sirius is loyal to the bone, willing to fight for those he loves, everything else can go to hell. He's passionate, brave, filled with energy, he has a great sense of humour, he's not bigoted enough to look down on Voldemort for not being a pureblood, yet he is bigoted enough to think muggles are inferior to wizards, so he and Voldemort together can complain about how crazy purebloods can be, while also bitch about how 'backwards' the muggles are. And, of course, he has the unique astral magic that no one else in the world has, and he's willing to confide in Voldemort about it. Also, did I mention how incredibly handsome he is? Voldemort is a dark lord, but man isn't blind. When Sirius walks by, anyone with eyes notices him haha.

At the beginning of the story, Voldemort finds some type of kinship with him, in the way that they both rejected their family, yet they both crave family, even if they don't admit it. Of course, Voldemort is an extreme version of rejecting family for rejecting him (he killed daddy and sent uncle to prison), but he recognises the struggle in Sirius, who wants his family to love him, who sometimes deeply dislikes his family, but he'll forever be tied to them, bonds that can't be broken. For all of Voldemort's rants that he became his own man, we can see that Voldemort is deeply obsessed with is own heritage- with Slytherin side (a source of pride) and with the muggle side (a source of constant self-loathing).

Voldemort was born in poverty, hated and pushed aside from birth, he had to work for everything; Sirius is the opposite of this, and yet they are both defining themselves by their blood, and both are obsessed with names, names that haunt them, put burden on their shoulders. Voldemort will never get rid of 'Riddle' no matter how he pretends he had, no matter how he terrifies people into not saying it, and Sirius will never get rid of Black, no matter if he left home and he's trying so hard to 'be different'.

Also, the most scary villain from all the Harry Potter books was Sirius, for me. Sirius in POA (before we learn he's innocent) managed to scare me more than Voldemort did in all the books lol. So I figured, why not pair them up, see where this goes.

[naomijoestar]

Hello! I would like to request a fic with the characters from part 4 of Jojo with a reader who is a professional wrestler like the ones in WWE 🥺🙏

Masterlist here <3

Hello yasmin! Thank you for your request I LOVE this idea! I’m so sorry for the late reply and I hope you enjoy <3 I wasn’t sure if you wanted this to be platonic or if the reader and the duwang member are dating so I made it with the idea that the member has a crush on the reader, I hope you don’t mind that! Also I made this GN!reader so everyone can enjoy, you could picture this as F or M! (Ps. There is slight use of y/n in this)

Duwang gang react to you being a professional WWE wrestler

Josuke Higashikata

Josuke finds out in the most casual way possible, someone at school mentions your name while talking about a wrestling match they watched over the weekend.

At first, he just blinks.

“Nah, can’t be the same person.”

Then he overhears the guy describing your signature move. He still doesn’t believe it. Not until he rushes home, searches up your name, and sees you suplexing some poor dude twice your size.

“Oh my god. That’s my crush.”

Josuke is shook. He always thought you were cool, but this? This takes it to another level. The next time he sees you, he tries to act all smooth, but he’s dying to bring it up.

“So, uh… you ever, like, body slam anyone in real life?”

He’s dying to see you do some moves. The idea of you powerbombing a guy is both terrifying and amazing to him. If you ever offer to show him some wrestling moves, he’s in—though he’ll totally regret it when he realizes how strong you actually are.

He’s 100% bragging to Okuyasu and Koichi.

“My crush is literally a pro wrestler. What’s cooler than that?”

Koichi Hirose

Koichi figures it out way later than he should. You’ve always been strong, but he never really questioned it. That is, until one day he’s flipping through channels and catches a glimpse of a wrestling match.

He stops because—wait. That person in the ring looks exactly like you. Same stance. Same way of moving. Same determined expression.

Koichi’s brain takes a full minute to process this. He stares at the screen. Then back at the TV guide. Then at the screen again.

When he finally asks you about it, he’s so flustered.

“I had no idea you were so amazing! You fight against actual trained athletes? And win?!”

He’s genuinely impressed but also deeply concerned. Wrestling looks dangerous, and Koichi worries about you getting hurt.

“Do they really hit that hard? Does it ever hurt? Do you get time to rest? Are you sure you’re okay??”

He’s so supportive, though. He watches your matches, cheers you on, and even tries to learn some wrestling terms so he can understand what’s going on. He’ll never stop being in awe of you.

Okuyasu Nijimura

Okuyasu’s reaction is pure excitement. He finds out when he randomly sees a poster with your face on it.

“Wait a minute… I know them! That’s y/n!!”

It’s over. He’s your biggest fan now. He’s watching all your matches, screaming at the TV, and losing his mind whenever you do something cool.

“DID YOU SEE THAT MOVE?! THAT’S MY CRUSH RIGHT THERE!”

He absolutely asks if you can teach him some moves. He thinks it’d be so cool if you could lift him up and throw him (but please don’t actually do it, he’s not ready).

Anytime someone talks about wrestling, he’s immediately like

“Oh yeah? My friend y/n is a pro. Yeah, the y/n.”

He’s so proud of you. If he ever goes to one of your live matches, you’ll definitely hear his voice over everyone else’s.

Rohan Kishibe

Rohan is the only one who doesn’t immediately lose his mind. When he finds out, he just raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Hmph. Professional wrestling? It’s just theatrics.”

But deep down? He’s intrigued. He looks up your matches—not because he cares, of course. He’s just curious.

Then he sees you perform a perfect high-flying move, flipping off the ropes with incredible precision. He watches as you pin your opponent effortlessly.

“…Interesting.”

Rohan acts indifferent, but his curiosity betrays him. He starts sketching wrestling moves in his manga, making notes about body movement and physicality. He even asks subtle questions about your training.

He’ll never outright admit it, but he’s impressed. And maybe, just maybe, he thinks it’s kind of… cool.

If you’d like anything tweaked let me know!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[honeysweetcorvidae]

something bouncing around in my mind that I’d really love to hear your thoughts on is regarding how shuake age together (assuming they get to, bc I am a Goro lives truther). On one hand, I love thinking about what a mature, comfortable relationship might look like for them. (Learning each other’s sensory idiosyncrasies? favorite foods? preferred ways to wind down after a tiring day and what time to carve out for each other vs for themselves?) and yet I also wonder if that domestication… like… loses some specific flavor in the shuake? they’re Weird about each other, we know this to be true & its like the spice of the ship. I’m curious what you imagine their relationship might look like in 20, 30 years. Because I’ve personally experienced how the things that are exciting at 17 are annoying/uninteresting now that I’m older, tastes change, things get stale… yet I also believe they would continue to find the other interesting and continue valuing and loving each other, even in domesticity haha. But there are so many ways to imagine that changing as they age, if it does. as someone else who has Copious shuake thoughts I wanted to toss this at you and hopefully hear your take on things. love and light <33

(forgive me if this is a little disconnected, it’s one a.m.) this is a really fun question to think about!! i’m personally of the opinion that they will always be at least a little bit deranged— i think they’re the type of people to say “see you next week!” to a friend and the next time you see them they’ve like, traveled halfway around the world and destabilized a tyrannical government. as a way to unwind from a long few weeks of running a cafe. (more under the cut)

as a COUPLE i personally find myself in a camp of “deeply intense and kind of annoying”— they’re the kind of guys who do not tend to do things in half measures, right, so i think once they’ve settled on being Together they’re fuckign together. long haul. really profoundly aggravating to be around. they compete a lot still but i imagine it mellows over the years.

akechi in particular, i think, would be really set on Having And Taking Care Of joker (a fic i’m particularly fond of that gets into the dynamic i imagine for them(albeit in college, so still fairly close to canon) is malevolentmango’s old habits die loved) because he’s the kind of guy who needs A Purpose, and if he’s going to keep living beyond his expected use date then he needs SOMETHING to DO, you know? again, i think that mellows over the years, but he’ll always be Kind Of Intense.

i also have a vague headcanon about them adopting. personally i don’t have a breeding kink can’t really imagine them wanting to go the bio-kid route, but i can absolutely see them taking in a kid, particularly an older, more “difficult” one. one series i looooove [although i’ve never really been into joker as a therapist, but they do make it work] is frockbot’s tricksters, which goes super into detail on them taking in kids in a similar situation to goro and struggling through the growing pains of it. my OWN unwritten-but-moderately-fleshed-out babyconcept is “horrible little rat they both independently bond with in a kind of sitcom parallel-storylines situation”. (behold.)

anyway that aside:

i do think there’s merit to the idea that the shit you liked when you were seventeen doesn’t always hold interest anymore. but i also think they’ll probably always enjoy the rush of arguing over everything and scheming for no reason and fighting in another world, if they can get it! they probably chase their weird freak highs in a lot of ways. i could see all kinds of things— rock climbing. intense ballroom dancing. really dangerous investigative journalism. things of this nature. i can’t see them settling down Normalstyle with 2.5 biological children and a dog and office jobs and therapy*, personally. i do believe they’re always going to be weird and a little codependent and a little unnerving to be around. but in a nice way! eventually.

anyway, thank you for the ask!!! it’s soooo fun to think about this sort of thing. i love the idea of them with a future and space to breathe.

*frockbot notwithstanding. tricksters Earned that shit

[more-sonorous]

what i want to be (javey)

continuation of my transmasc canon era davey oneshot! because he is so near and dear to my heart.

tw/ for a little bit of blood and a lot a bit of davey thinking mean things about himself (and a lot a bit of jack saying nice things in return)

.....

David was not an idiot.

Or at least he tried not to be an idiot, but he found himself failing at doing so more and more as time passed. 

In his defense, it had been a rotten week. Sarah’s October birthday always reminded David of how much his parents favored his siblings over him, to put it bluntly. How could they not? Les and Sarah were golden children. Friendly social butterflies with gorgeous smiles and dimples, each with their own quirks, but nothing truly and debilitatingly strange. Not like David, who was too loud and curious as a child and too quiet and withdrawn as an adolescent, too opinionated, too awkward, with his trouble understanding expressions and tones of voice and his hatred for the skirts and dresses and pretty hairdos his mother always tried on him. Not what his parents expected from their middle child, surely. 

In a little over a month, David would turn eighteen. November. A bleak month already, but even bleaker when his birthday celebrations were compared to Sarah’s. They always had a small little party for all of Sarah’s friends, and Sarah would get a gift especially from Aba because it was no secret that she was the child he favored most. They always ranted about politics together and seemed to understand one another on a higher level-- even though Sarah denied it to David, it was no secret she was her father's child and she loved him deeply for it. Ima always gave her a present as well, usually a specially tailored dress or new blouse and skirt, because Ima loved to sew. For Sarah’s nineteenth birthday last year she’d received a real and true set of petticoats with lace and trimmings, a matter that had her pleasantly thrilled for weeks. 

David, on the other hand, received a combined present from both of his parents on account of money being rather tight around Hanukkah, and David never really liking any of the girlish things they bought him. He didn’t want new skirts or lace cuffs, and his father was awful at buying special little gifts for him. Mayer knew the brooches and political pamphlets and trinkets Sarah would enjoy, but he never seemed to understand David’s taste. It was fine. There was no house party, since David had no close friends to invite to such a thing. He’d always been too strange or odd for the other schoolchildren, and friendless-ness was something he’d learned to live with. Ima would make him rugelach and kiss him on the forehead in the morning, his father would hug him briefly and sincerely, and they’d let him have the day to himself to read or go walking or really do whatever he pleased in the solitude he’d convinced himself to prefer. Though he’d never dare complain, David hated his birthday. 

He hated comparing his birthday to Les and Sarah’s birthdays (Les was absolutely the darling of the family by far– he received the most gifts and celebration but it wasn’t quite fair to compare, since he was so much younger and meant to be spoilt while still a child) because it forced him to acknowledge how lackluster he was in comparison to his siblings.

David still loved them, of course, but birthdays were the reason October put him in a constant state of melancholy. 

The week in general had been horrible, what with Sarah’s birthday celebration and all of her presents and the love Aba showered her in. David’s depressive mood had thrown him out of his careful routine, and he found himself snapping at his family and the newsboys more often, much to his own embarrassment. He was close to breaking and maybe that was the reason why he was such a stupid idiot when he left the house that morning.

David kept meticulous track of his cycles every month. Three days before he was due to start, he always began wearing cotton padding just in case. He’d never encountered any problems and he was typically able to hide his cramping and irritability behind facades of general fatigue and teasing jabs that hit a little bit too hard.

That October morning, however, he made a very idiotic decision. Maybe it was because Sarah was admiring the socialist manifesto their father had bought her with the happiest eyes David had ever seen, or because Les refused to get out of bed and dress himself, but David did not put his cotton padding on. He was due to start in three days, after all, and he didn’t typically start early. They were in a rush. He was agitated and upset and feeling more worthless than usual. So he was an idiot about it.

“David.” Les hissed, tugging on his arm as they walked back towards the lodging house with Jack, arms free of papers and pockets a bit heavier with their daily earnings. He tugged again, stumbling along and whisper-grumbling like he didn’t want Jack to hear. “David.”

“What?” He snapped, coming to a halt and curling his hands into fists. He’d been feeling cruddy all day and Les begging him to buy a candy or stare into a shop window was the last thing he needed. David and Jack had been walking side by side in companionable silence, two of Jack’s fingers caught in the loop of David’s belt. He was very preoccupied with enjoying the way their hips and arms brushed together as they walked, and he did not have the time, energy, or patience to deal with any Leshem Jacobs shenanigans. 

Jack strolled to a halt as well, arms crossed loosely and brow furrowed in confusion. Les’s wide, brown eyes glanced between David and Jack, and he worried his bottom lip anxiously.

“What?” David tried again, through gritted teeth this time. 

His little brother tugged him down by the tie, until he stumbled into a crouch. Les was at the perfect height to cup his hands around his own mouth and lean in to press himself close to David, whispering right up in his ear. David tried to flare his own agitation as he caught his balance, hoping and praying that Les wasn’t about to ask him to play some stupid prank on Jack. 

Les’s voice was hardly even audible, a barely-there whisper that somehow carried notes of anxiety within it. “You’re bleeding.”

“Where?” He rolled his eyes and checked his palms for any sort of cut– but Les was very serious as he tugged on David’s pant leg. David raised an eyebrow, getting awfully tired of repeating himself. “Where, Leshem?”

“You know.” His little brother whispered pointedly, dark eyebrows raised and face creased with worry. “Down… um… down there.”

A moment of confusion passed before horror took over completely, spawning a tight sort of panic that made David feel tense from the soles of his feet to his shoulders. He wasn’t due for at least three days but apparently this was happening there and then and oh, God, a subtle glance down proved that Les was right. His gray trousers were darkened just between his legs and somehow he hadn’t noticed– probably too distracted by Jack.

Jack. 

This could not be happening in front of Jack. The panic really began to set in and David thanked God above that he hadn’t tied his bandages too tightly because he could feel his breathing picking up already. What the hell was he supposed to do? He’d been an idiot and left all of his padding at the apartment, and Jack was right there and he could notice at any minute and then David’s entire life would be over, and he spiraled into a frenzy as he jolted to his feet and grabbed Les tightly by the collar.

“Les and I have to go home now.” He snapped at Jack, barely able to hear his own voice over the rushing of blood in his ears.

“What?” Jack’s confused expression only got more confused as he stared at the brothers. David knew he and Les’s panicked expressions were almost laughably similar because their faces got red and their eyes got very big, but even Jack didn’t seem to think that this was a laughing matter. “Hey, what in the world is goin’ on? Way to leave a guy out of the loop–”

“Sorry, Jack, have a nice day. I hope the poker tournament at the lodging house goes well! See you tomorrow! 

Determined to flee as quickly as possible, David grabbed Les by the suspenders and steered him forward, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Of course, Jack was a stubborn little bastard when he wanted to be, and he jogged right up to Davey’s side. “Davey, what the hell?”

“I forgot we have… um… chores.”

Even Les rolled his eyes at David’s horrible lying abilities as Jack raised both of his perfect eyebrows. “Yeah, you wanna try that again?”

“No. I want you to turn around right now and go back to the Lodging House and pretend like this didn’t happen.” He gritted out, eyes plastered directly forward and tone clipped. David’s anxiety was cutting into the typical irritability he felt during this hellish week, when his own body betrayed him and reminded him that he’d never be who he wanted to be. 

“Excuse me?” Jack laughed almost incredulously, mouth dropping open. 

“You’re excused.” David snarled, trying to show Jack that he meant to be taken seriously and praying that his anxiety didn’t come across as obviously as he felt it. His fingers were trembling around his brother and now he could feel the uncomfortable dampness between his legs, ever-present and taunting. "Now go away.

“You ain’t doin’ yourself any fuckin’ favors, Davey, you’re only scarin’ me more–”

He couldn’t stop a noise of frustration from bubbling up. “Jack, when are you ever going to learn how to take a hint? Everything is fine, but we need to go home right now. So leave me alone. We’ll see you tomorrow.” 

David took the opportunity to shove Les through a tightly packed group of pedestrians, trying not to cringe at all of the strangers shoving and bumping against him. He felt about an inch or two away from retching all over the sidewalk as he tried to lose Jack in the throng of people, Les taking his hand and wordlessly speeding up their pace. David could scarcely breathe as they rounded the corner, clutching onto his little brother’s hand like a lifeline. This was bad. It was really bad, bordering on horrible, because Jack would be upset with him in the morning. But at least there was one good sign– Jack never chased after anyone except for Katherine. He was too comfortable with himself, too confident to go running after other people. Only her, and he loved her religiously. David felt a sick sort of happiness as he acknowledged the fact that Jack didn’t care for him in any manner other than a fleeting surface level friendship. He cradled that reassurance close to his chest as he and Les shouldered past other pedestrians, weaving through the most complicated path possible. He’d pretty much convinced himself that they were in the clear when a thickly accented voice cut through the space behind them.

“Davey– que carajo, Dave can you just– is that blood? Jesus fuckin’ Christ are you bleeding?” Rough arms grabbed him by the shoulders and David’s heart practically stopped in his chest as he wheeled around to face Jack, who had defied all logic and chased them through the crowds. Panicked honey-brown eyes stared down, down there, and Davey seized up like a stopped clock, no ticking in his brain or chest or heart. He wanted to freeze, melt, die, maybe. “Are you hurt– what happened– hold on a second– you– you– oh.”

Then Jack’s eyes got big and flicked right up to meet David’s. Maybe it was because he’d been feeling lethargic and sick and pained all day, maybe it was his previously sour mood, maybe it was the fact that the understanding dawning on Jack’s face was the most sickening thing David had ever seen– but his bottom lip was already wobbling as he shoved the other boy away. “Just– just don’t.”

If he ever thought he had a chance with Jack, his hopes were crushed and crumbled into nothing now. His eyes were stinging and he could barely breathe as he squeezed Les’s hand tight and turned on his heel, stumbling into a nearby alleyway. Remarkably, Jack was still on his tail and Davey had no idea how to explain this sudden annoying pursuit, other than the fact that Jack wanted to beat the shit out of him and he just couldn’t let that happen in front of Les.

“Davey, Davey would you just slow down for one goddamn second–” 

“Les,” David choked out through tears, “Would you wait by the lamppost for me?”

“But–”

He was already pushing the younger boy towards the aforementioned lamppost, trying his very hardest not to cry. “We'll just be a second.”

Then, steeling himself up for the worst soaking of his life, he marched resolutely into the alleyway and parked himself, standing straight and tall. Then Jack rounded the corner looking incredibly concerned and all of David’s half-assed plans to remain resilient and tough as the person he considered to be his best friend tore him apart all fell to shit. He was crying before he could stop himself.

“P– can you just wait to do this when my little brother isn’t with me? I can’t– I don’t want him to see me losing a fight.” He sobbed, the very idea of Les having to walk him home all battered and bruised by Jack’s hands absolutely tearing him apart. “Please. I w- I won’t ever step foot in the circulation yard again, Jack, I just– I really– I’m begging you not to, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if he had to watch you h- hit–”

“Watch me– God, Davey, oh my God, you think I want to hurt you?” Jack breathed, a look of unbridled terror taking over his gorgeous face. “Oh, Dave, Davey-mine, God, no. Mierda.”

Within moments, Jack was gathering him up into a tight hug, almost trembling with forced gentleness. David had no earthly clue what was happening, but he tucked his nose into Jack’s shoulder and let tears streak his cheeks as he breathed in the smells of cigarette smoke and sweat. The calloused fingers of one tanned hand threaded through David’s curls. “You just– it’s what anyone would–”

“Let’s shut this shit down right now, ‘cause I would never lay a hand on you. Never. Do you understand me?” He’d never heard Jack’s voice so firm and simultaneously anxious at the same time, and it wrenched a guttural little noise from him. Then Jack’s hands were cupping his cheeks and he stared at those resolute brown eyes, wanting to melt away and hide forever. “Davey. I need ta’ hear you say it. If I had to choose between dyin’ and hurtin’ you then I’m dead, do you get that?”

“But–” His chest shook and he squeezed Jack’s wrists almost desperately. “You know why I’m bleeding, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I gathered that much but I– fuck, I’m just surprised, cariño, not angry. I don’ think I’ve ever been that angry with you. I mean– you know a guy for four months, and this ain’t exactly the shit you expect to find out about him. A’course, that don’t mean it ain’t okay with me, it just… caught me off guard.” Jack dragged one of his rough thumbs over David’s cheekbone and he felt that same sense of ridiculous awe and relief all over again, just like he had in that alleyway with Race back in August. “I ain’t ever gonna lay a finger on you. Understood? David. Come on and tell me you understand, cielito.”

“I understand.” His words warbled with emotion. 

Jack just looked at him like he was seeing right through his eyes and straight into his soul. David wanted to scream. “Good. Nothin’ is ever gonna change that.”

David couldn’t handle it. He was just too homosexual. Too goddamn homosexual to stare into Jack’s understanding brown eyes and feel his warm touch, too goddamn homosexual to believe the fact that Jack was standing here accepting him, not wanting to pummel the life out of him but instead aching to comfort him. He pulled himself out of Jack’s grasp and rubbed his hands over his face, tension making his shoulders hurt with rigidity.

Anxious footsteps carefully trailed behind him. “Davey?”

“You’re not… this isn’t how you’re supposed to react.” He whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring down at his shoes. “You’re supposed to be angry.”

“Why’s that? Because some stupid rich folk and the stupid rules they created want me to be angry? Bullshit.” Jack reached for him, obviously wanting to touch, and David shrugged him off nearly instantly. He couldn’t take it. 

“Not just that. I’ve been lying to you. And… and the fact that you’re accepting it and not trying to put me in my place is just going to make it worse.” He whispered, hoarse and miserable and past the point of caring about his ruined trousers. “You’re egging it on.”

After a moment of hesitation, Jack settled with leaning up against the wall next to David. He was less than an inch away, reclined effortlessly against the bricks with his lovely black hair falling in curtains over his forehead. David could just barely feel his warmth, could sense the tension radiating off of him. “Egging what on?”

“My… my strangeness.” He gestured to himself. The clothes he’d sewn so carefully, his awkward, lanky proportions and the uncomfortable stain that had started this whole mess. His hair, recently cropped again, because he’d never ever be able to live with it long again after the freeing euphoria of having it short. The weirdness. The person that had been lurking under the surface of pressed skirts and waist-length curls of chocolate brown for all his life, scaring everyone away for years. His true self, hesitantly peeking out in bits and pieces, strange and different. “This. Whatever it is. I… I shouldn’t be doing it. I should be going by– you should be calling me–”

He couldn’t even say the name. It felt like poison on his tongue. He hated it. 

“What do you want to be called?” Jack asked delicately, his gaze searing the side of David’s face. “‘Cause I’m calling you that. Not what you think I should be calling you. Or not what your parents think, or society, or whatever. What do you want?”

“David. Davey, Dave, all of the other things you call me.” He buried his face in his hands as memories of Spanish endearments and his favorite, Davey-mine, all echoed in his head. That was what he wanted. 

“Then that’s what I’m calling you. That’s your name. David. Plain and simple.” Jack’s worn-out leather work boot inched slightly to the right, bumping against David’s badly-shined lace up boot. Jack’s laces didn’t match. David’s shoes  were stolen from his parents’ wardrobe, specifically from within a box of his father’s old clothes his parents were keeping for Les. “And you’re a man, if you want to be.”

His eyes stung with tears as he rolled that question around in his head. The ever-present pit in his chest finally seemed to have an explanation, and as he said it aloud for the first time, his heart broke a little bit. Now he understood himself. ”I really want to be." 

Maybe even needed to be, but he didn’t say that piece aloud. He couldn’t imagine going back to his old life. Not when he’d tasted the sweetness of being one of the newsies, unabashedly himself. Locking himself in that cage once more would be an indescribable torture.

“You are a man, Davey. To me and all of the other guys. David Jacobs, smartest guy I know. Prob’ly the best-looking, too.” His voice honeyed with the tease as he bumped their shoulders together, melting David bit by bit with the endless kindness and love he seemed to possess. “I never saw you as anyone else and I never will, neither.” 

A tear or two slipped as he nodded, tilting his head down and to his left to awkwardly press against Jack’s shoulder. Jack pressed an actual kiss to his hair before wrapping him up in a soft, gentle sort of embrace. “Jack. You’re… you’re a really good person.”

His firm chest rumbled with a chuckle. “Nah, this is the bare minimum of what the world owes you, Dave.”

That made him cry, really and truly, and he was just lucky to have Jack rocking him back and forth in a sturdy embrace. David had never felt so loved before. 

They spent a while lingering together, letting David work through all of his conflicting emotions while Jack stood firmly by. Their roles had swapped, usually firm and unwavering David was there for Jack, who had never known stability, to lean on for support. This was a strange departure from their usual dynamic, especially for David and his bone-deep hatred of vulnerability. Honesty reminded him of those childhood evenings when his parents would sit him on the couch and lecture him gently (with undisguised fear and anxiety in their eyes) about how the things he liked weren’t quite acceptable. Honesty reminded him of bad, miserable things. Of feeling like too much within his own skin or too little too. Still, it was more than lovely to have a shoulder to cry on. After a long enough time passed, Les came racing in, brandishing a metal pipe which he seemed intent on bashing Jack’s knees in.

Once he was convinced that no one was going to hurt his brother, Les was subdued and begrudgingly decided to trust Jack again. So they walked Les back to the lodging house and left him in Crutchie’s capable hands. Then, Jack took Davey to Medda’s theatre and he found himself in a washroom, carefully wiping his legs clean. 

It seemed that Jack only got more lovely with every passing day. In that alleyway, David fell hopelessly and irreparably in love with him. How could he not? Jack had found out about his lies and deceit and still cared for him. He was even scrounging about in costume storage looking for a new pair of trousers while David cleaned himself up. He was just wonderful, plain and simply, and that made the fact that David couldn’t have him hurt even more. A little knife, twisting into that hollow beneath his ribcage, teasing that Jack was both accepting and unavailable.

Still, David thought of Katherine. He never stood a chance– not against a woman of her caliber. Rich, intelligent, a perfect flirty spitfire to match Jack step for step. One day Jack was going to marry her and disappear into New York’s upper crust, leaving David stranded as just about everyone tended to do.

He’d gotten used to the loneliness. Didn’t mean he liked it any.

Feeling fully and entirely dejected with his entire lower abdomen twisted into nasty, debilitating cramps, he curled up on the tile floor of the washroom and let the chill sink into his skin. Somehow this had become his life. Vacillating between the happiest he’d ever been and the most miserable. A future of corsets and petticoats and no Jack Kelly was making him sick to his stomach.

What could’ve been an hour or just five minutes later found a gentle knocking on the door. He forced himself onto his feet and peaked just his head out the crack of the door. Jack stood, gorgeous and smiling and holding a folded pair of trousers. He also had one of those sanitary belts the rich girls wore. 

“Miss Medda gave me this thing.” Jack held it up, looking adorably confused. “I, uh, I told her Smalls needed some stuff back at the lodging house, so you don’t need to worry.”

“Thanks.” David whispered, unable to muster up much joy with his thoughts spiraling in such a way.

Right before he could close the door, Jack caught it. He looked hesitant, a furrow between his brows. Hesitance was not a look David often saw on the fearless Jack Kelly. “Can I come in? Once you’re dressed? Just wanna… gotta make sure you’re okay.”

He felt himself softening into a puddle of lovesick goop at the sight of Jack’s face, hopeful and sweet and uncharacteristically childlike. “Okay. Gimme a minute.”

Once he was sufficiently clean and covered, wearing the sanitary belt beneath his clothes with one of his father’s leather belts holding the too-baggy trousers ‘round his waist, David sunk to the floor once more and dropped his exhausted forehead against his knees. Silence. This was not how he’d expected his day to go. He beckoned Jack in and soon found himself sitting opposite the other boy, fixed with a look of concerned care. Their legs tangled together and Jack wrapped one warm hand around David’s ankle, searching his expression as if looking for something. Maybe finding his words. His hand glided up and down, skin pushing at the dark hairs there.

Eventually Jack settled on something. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No.” He looked down at his lap. “I thought you’d hate me. My family barely tolerates me, as it is… even Sarah doesn’t support this, and I’d been hoping that she’d be my person through it all. She thinks it’s some sort of abandonment, I think. Like I’m trying to be a man to get away from being a woman– like, to get the right to vote or own property or something– but that isn’t it at all. It’s just– people not wanting this version of me is all I’ve ever known. Les is the only one who’s kind about it. Him and Racetrack.”

Jack’s eyes widened and he pouted almost comically. “Wh– Racer found out before me?”

“Sure.” David couldn’t help his own teasing smile. “Remember back in August when we nearly got mugged in Brooklyn? We had to run back and I did my bandages too tight.”

“Bandages?”

Jack wasn’t attracted to him in any way whatsoever so David had no problem unbuttoning his own shirt and lifting his undershirt to show Jack the careful wrappings that kept his chest flat. He wanted to laugh at Jack’s awestruck impression, cheeks darkening beneath his tan and eyes wide. He was probably shocked by the idea that David had been selling papers for hours every single day in such restraints. 

“Keeps my chest flat.” David explained simply, smoothing his undershirt back down over his stomach. 

Jack swallowed hard. “Yep.”

“But sometimes I tie them too tight,” He continued, unable to stop blabbering around Jack. It was a bad habit, but Jack made him feel comfortable and listened to, which was a rare occurrence, so David had gotten into the routine of yammering endlessly whenever Jack was willing to listen. “Which is what I did that day. I was panicked and overheated and I just convinced myself I couldn’t breathe, even though I probably could’ve if I was calm. Race was great about it. He’s been great since then, of course. He’s always checking up on me. The other day–”

“I would never hate you.” Jack cut him off very suddenly and very intensely, his hand flexing where it still sat, now cupping the back of David’s calf, beneath his pant leg. “You’re… I dunno how, but you’ve become the person I go to for everything. I can’t lose that. Can’t lose you, I mean, Davey-mine.”

Struck by the sudden sincerity, David felt his chest flutter happily beneath the praise. He felt stupid and stripped of his words. “Oh. I… um… yes, I feel the same way, Jackie.”

Jack nodded, glancing over David’s posture. The way he was holding his cramping lower stomach, tight with pain, was probably obvious. But he didn’t care. Jack had seen enough already. And somehow, with an artist’s observational eye and a lover’s gentle attentiveness, Jack knew just what to do and slid his hand up to Davey’s knee. “What’s gonna make you feel less sick? Water? Smalls likes to bundle up and lay in bed, and I know Kath’s always craving salty food…”

“Honestly, um…” He glanced up at Jack, who was leaning in like he actually cared what David would say. David had already made one idiotic decision, and it had ended surprisingly well. He settled on a second one after careful deliberation, and cleared his throat. “I… can you play with my hair?”

A tiny smile took over Jack’s features. “‘Course I can. C’mere.”

Jack’s hands molded him like some sort of sculpture, guiding him to lay with his head pillowed upon Jack’s lap. David’s insides were screaming giddily as he relished in the coolness of the bathroom tile, Jack’s muscles firm and cotton-covered beneath him. Then those hands weaved their way into his hair and gently scraped against his scalp, and David was weak. Done for. Absolutely head over ass in love. 

It was easy to pretend, laying on that bathroom floor with Jack’s hands in his hair and his brown eyes carefully scanning over David’s face. It was easy to convince himself that maybe Jack loved as deeply as he did. To pretend that this would become a regular occurrence, that this was a lifetime in which he was Jack’s and Jack was his, and they weren’t lying on the water closet floor in a theater, but instead on a couch in an apartment of their own. In that world, David was comfortable and happy and his parents and Sarah loved him for it, and Jack loved him even harder. In that perfect, wonderful world, he got to be with Jack every morning. He had devotion and love and loneliness was a distant, unrecognizable beast.

This, though? It was halfway there. David was sure it was as close to heaven as he’d get in his lifetime, and he savored every second.

[bianotbia]

# astrology confessions 2 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

Hii again :) This might just turn into a series because, honestly, I’m a total nerd for astrology and tarot. Now that I’ve learned a bit more about reading birth charts and the cards, I’d love to share my thoughts with others.

As I mentioned in my last confessions, I enjoy analyzing the birth charts of famous people I admire. I usually just check their sun signs, but I’m thinking about diving deeper into other placements too. Just for context, I recently graduated with a degree in communications and am now pursuing a postgrad in filmmaking, focusing on screenwriting and directing. So, naturally, I started looking up the sun signs of famous directors.

Of course, I know astrology isn’t scientifically proven, and there are countless factors to consider in both filmmaking and astrology. But I can’t help but find it fascinating how certain signs seem to fit so well with the personalities and creative styles of these filmmakers. My initial research was pretty general, but I noticed a strong pattern: many of the most successful and heavily marketed directors are fire signs—especially aries and leo, with a few sags in the mix—as well as libras. And honestly, it makes so much sense. Fire signs and libras really fit that classic image of a director of bold, charismatic, commanding the room, larger-than-life storytellers who thrive in the spotlight.

As a scorpio, I was kinda curious to find more water sign representation in filmmaking. That’s when I discovered that Jordan Peele and Sean Baker are both pisces (love them!). And it just fits—you can really feel their sensitivity in their work. Peele, with his dreamy yet grounded storytelling, and Sean, who turns the everyday lives of marginalized people into something deeply cinematic.

Just out of curiosity, I also looked up Sofia Coppola and Wes Anderson (love them too!), and it turns out they’re both taureans. Again, it's just perfect—their meticulous attention to aesthetics, their dedication to creating visually stunning films, and that earthy sense of beauty and order that taurus embodies.

Now, you might be wondering (or not!) if I found any directors who share my sun sign. And the answer is yes—Martin Scorsese is actually a scorpio sun and pisces moon, just like me! The funny thing is, he’s not actually my favorite director, nor has he made my favorite films, but I deeply admire and respect his work. I can see those placements reflected in his storytelling—the dark, intense atmosphere, the exploration of life’s darker aspects, and the way his films feel like real life is being told in a way that it could only belong in fiction.

I just love seeing my different obsessions all coming together! It’s fascinating how each director infuses their unique creative vision with a bit of themselves. And as an aspiring filmmaker, I hope that one day, even if just in the smallest way, I can create something that reflects my own perspective of life and creative vision to the world just like them.

[professoruber]

Thoughts on why I like the depiction of Kara as a scientist

Source: Supergirl (2016) #8

So a bit ago I posted a poll about Kara's "day job" because I was curious. As it turns out, "Scientist Kara" was by far the most popular option of those who voted, ending up with roughly half the votes, with "Actress Kara" as a distant second place.

"Scientist Kara" was also my preference, and so this has gotten me thinking more deeply into the why of what makes "Scientist Kara" so appealing, with some help from the reasonings given by response to the poll.

So with that in mind, I figured I might make a post discussing this. Note I am not the biggest comic expert, but I am learning more bit by bit.

What Makes Kara the Scientist so appealing?

Source: World's Finest: Batwoman and Supergirl (2020) #2

I think this was the story which really sold me on the concept of Scientist Kara. I'd really recommend checking it out, but here's the gist...

Kara gets fired from her CatCo internship due to constantly leaving to do Supergirl stuff, after a dressing down from Cat Grant she flies over to the Daily Planet rooftop where she meets her cousin. Kara reminisces about Krypton (as shown in the snapshot above) and reveals (after Clark questions her) that she only became a reporter because Clark is one and she doesn't even like the job. After being reassured by Clark that she could never leave in his shadow and how they all have to find their own paths, she ends up attending a S.T.A.R Labs job fair with a much more optimistic attitude.

This story quite firmly establishes science as something that is hers, an activity which she enjoyed.

Pursuing a career in journalism is something, by contrast, that she both struggles with and finds frustrating.

That's what I found so appealing, I think. Kara being a scientist in this context means allowing herself to follow her own path rather than just seek to live up to the legacy set by Superman.

Furthermore, it can also help show the differences between the cousins and their upbringings.

Kara's Kryptonian roots

Both Superman and Supergirl are immigrant stories, but also quite different ones.

Superman is Clark Kent, even if he was born on Krypton as Kal-El and those roots are part of who is he is. Clark Kent is a Kansas farm boy, the man he is and the morals he lives are due to Ma and Pa Kent.

Supergirl is Kara Zor-El, even if she now lives on Earth as Kara Danvers/Linda Lee Danvers/Linda Lang (depending on the continunity). Kara Zor-El is generally 15 when arriving on Earth (I believe) and so spent those years growing up in Argo City (which escape Krypton's destruction) or on Krypton itself. Either way, she was raised in Kryptonian society and culture.

Source: Supergirl (1982) #17

I think it makes quite a bit of sense for Kara to remain attached to her roots even after years living on Earth, since that is the culture she grew up in, and it also because of how interesting it is to explore.

And while the nature of Krypton can vary across different continunities, a consistent aspect is that it is a scientifically advanced society which surpasses Earth in that regard. The House of El is also populated by scientists, with that being the standard career of the parents of both Clark and Kara.

Source: Batgirl (2009) #14

Kara was, in the New Earth continuity, even depicted as following the family business via joining the Science Guild.

(Also; gotta love Kara's smugness here.)

The best of both worlds

Clark Kent can be said to represent the best of humanity.

So I think it would fit for Kara Zor-El to represent the best of Krypton.

As I mentioned before, the portrayal of Krypton can very much vary. Often it is a flawed and stagnant society, although there are also versions which are imperialistic (such as in MAWS, although I personally was not the biggest fan of that, but I digress).

Source: Supergirl (1982) #18

To take another step back to pre-crisis Supergirl and her choice of headgear, I'd like to highlight these panels.

As shown earlier, she chose this particular red headband because it is a traditional piece of Kryptonian attire and so represents her continued ties to Krypton even while living on Earth. As shown here though, the headband is traditionally only worn by men and yet Kara decides to wear it anyway because of Earth gender equality concepts.

It creates an interesting mix of traditionalism and rebellion-ness. She is maintaining her Kryptonian roots, but doing so in a way which defies part of the tradition via incorporating an ideal she learned on Earth.

And so that is how I think Kara Zor-El could represent the best of Krypton.

She is the scientist, someone who represents Kryptonian's advanced society and values, but also lacks the stagnation, close-mindedness and dogma which is often shown contributing to the people's doom.

She becomes "The Woman of Tomorrow".

Some final thoughts

Another perspective of this which has crossed my mind is that giving Kara the background and ambitions of a scientist arguably could add another layer to the tragedy of her story. Of course, the loss of her home, family and people is the primary tragic event. But a Kara whose only wish was to do science, ending up on Earth where she no longer gains extreme powers but also a newfound legacy of heroism, means that Kara now has newfound expectations and even responsibility, even if she never wanted to be a fighter at all.

Kara had her entire life changed on a fundamental level when circumstances destroyed her home and sent her to Earth.

Her being a scientist can be seen as another way of her maintaining her ties to the advanced society she hails from, and reflect the way in which she was a product of that society even as she grows and explores new ways and ideas.

And I think this concept, both making Kara science-inclined and generally more focused on her Kryptonian roots, can be beneficial in exploring the immigrant aspect of her character in a way different to Clark.