#writing it based on personal experience or ….

[ahqkas]

♯ HIS LOVE’S CREATIVE HEART ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the love of his life was a creative soul and who was he to deny your nature? (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing, crafty reader, muggleborn reader, lovesick mattheo

NOTES! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

YOU'VE ALWAYS LOVED THE ACTIVITIES OF CREATIVITY. From a young age, you found joy in the simple act of making something with your own hands. Crocheting, with its interesting patterns and soothing repetition, was one of your earliest passions. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a ball of yarn transform into a cozy blanket or a delicate sweater under your fingers. Each loop, each stitch is a small act of creation. The rhythmic movement of the hook, the texture of the yarn slipping through your fingers, and the memories of your Grandmama were too cherished by you to forget them.

Baking, too, became a beloved creative outlet you shared with the sweet old woman. The kitchen was your laboratory, a place where you could freely experiment. You relished the process of measuring and mixing, the way simple ingredients like flour, sugar, and eggs could be transformed into a mix of flavors and textures. The smell of freshly baked bread or cookies wafting through the house was a comforting reminder of the magic you could create by your own hands. The process is both strict and freeing; one must follow certain rules, yet there is always room for imagination. A pinch of spice here, a dash of flavor there, and suddenly, a simple recipe becomes his personal favorite.

Painting, on the other hand, offered you a different kind of creative fulfillment. With a blank canvas before you and a palette of colors at your disposal, you felt a sense of freedom that was really exciting for your young heart. Each brushstroke was a gift of your inner world, a glimpse into your thoughts and emotions. Whether you were capturing the vibrant hues of a sunset or the delicate details of a flower, painting allowed you to see the world through new eyes and share your unique perspective with others.

In all these activities, you discovered not just hobbies, but a way of life. Creativity became a pair of sunglasses through which you viewed the world.

Your grandmama always believed in the magic of your creativity. From the time you were old enough to hold a crochet hook, she supported your talents with a guiding hand. Together, you spent countless afternoons creating intricate patterns and baking delicious treats in her warm home. Her kitchen became your comfort place, the rhythmic hum of the oven and the soft clinking of your crochet needles made you unbelievably happy. She celebrated each finished piece, every golden-brown loaf of bread, and every delicate painting as if they were masterpieces. 

When your Hogwarts letter arrived, the old woman was overjoyed. As a muggleborn, you were stepping into a world she could only imagine. "Think of all the magical things you will create," she had said, her eyes sparkling with pride. Though the idea of leaving her was haunting you, her open love made the thought easier. She promised to write often, and you did your best to send her letters filled with detailed descriptions of your magical adventures and the new wonders you were creating with your wand.

But letters could only do so much, and as the years went by, you missed the simple joy of her daily encouragement and the warmth of her presence.

Six years passed in a blur of potions, spells, and problem making. Your creative spirit never died, but the absence of your grandmama's physical presence was a constant ache that seemed to linger in the depths of your heart. It was around this time that Mattheo Riddle entered your life. He saw the passion in your eyes, the same spark your grandmama had always seen. At first, he was fascinated by your creativity, watching with awe as you seamlessly blended magic with your muggleborn talents.

01 - CROCHETING

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the flickering light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls. The warmth of the fire created a comforting atmosphere, slushing off the chill of the evening. You and Mattheo were nestled on a plush, overstuffed couch, its worn fabric bearing the marks of countless cozy evenings like this one. The air was filled with the soothing crackle of burning wood and the occasional 'pop' of a log as it settled deeper into the flames. Evenings like these were your favorite. 

You sat cross-legged at one end of the couch, your crochet hook moving rhythmically through a skein of deep blue yarn. Each loop and stitch seemed to flow effortlessly from your fingers, years of practice and the love poured into the new project. Your eyes were focused, yet relaxed, as you followed the intricate pattern in your mind, your hands working almost of their own accord.

Mattheo sat at the other end, his body turned toward you, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His gaze was soft but concentrated, his dark eyes following the movements of your hands with a mixture of admiration and fascination. He loved watching you create; there was something almost magical about the way you transformed simple yarn into beautiful designs. It was a side of you that he cherished deeply, a glimpse into your soul that he was privileged to witness.

The common room was quiet, save for the sounds of the fire and the occasional rustle of yarn. Mattheo shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. "What are you making this time?" he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with genuine curiosity as his irises never left your movements. 

You glanced up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's a blanket," you replied, holding up the growing fabric for him to see. "For my dorm. I thought it could use a bit more color and warmth."

Mattheo reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric. "It's beautiful," he murmured lowly, his eyes meeting yours. "Just like everything you make." 

Heat crept up your cheeks at his words, and you looked back down at your work, your smile widening. "Thank you." 

As you continued to crochet, Mattheo's gaze never wavered. He was captivated by the way your fingers moved, the delicate dance of the hook and yarn. He loved these quiet moments with you, where time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away. Everything was okay for once again. 

After a while, Mattheo shifted again, moving closer until his knee brushed against yours. He reached out and gently took one of your hands, his touch warm and reassuring. "Can I help?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed softly, the sound a sweet melody that mingled with the crackling fire. "I don't know," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever done this before?" You knew the answer, but you wanted to mess with him a little bit.

His lips stretched into a grin at your words and his hand squeezed yours lightly. "I think I can manage. Just show me what to do."

You shifted closer to him, the blanket pooling in your and his lap. "Alright," you said, holding out the hook and yarn toward him. "First, you need to make a slip knot." You demonstrated the simple loop, your fingers deftly moving with practiced ease. Mattheo watched intently, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mimicked your movements.

"Like this?" he asked, showing you his attempt. It was a bit loose, but it held.

"Perfect," you praised the Slytherin boy, eyes sparkling with encouragement. "Now, hold the yarn like this and make a chain stitch." You showed him how to wrap the yarn around the hook and pull it through the loop. He followed your instructions carefully, his movements tentative but eager.

With each new step, you guided him, your hands occasionally covering his to correct his grip or adjust the tension. "You're doing great," you said, watching as he completed a row of chain stitches. "Now, let's try a single crochet."

Mattheo's initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a steady rhythm and his confidence grew with each stitch. He glanced up at you, a mixture of pride and joy in his eyes. "This isn't so bad," he admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Although his side of the blanket was a little more messy than yours, it was adorable to see him trying out your activities. 

You laughed, the sound filling his chest with warmth. "See? I told you. And it's even more fun when you get the hang of it."

The two of you continued working together, your hands moving in sync as you crocheted side by side. As the night wore on, you and Mattheo fell into a comfortable silence, the rhythm of your work and the steady crackle of the fire lulling you into a peaceful state of mind.

02 - BAKING 

It was well past curfew, and the usual bustle of Hogwarts had given way to a hushed stillness.

 You and Mattheo crept through the hallways, stifling giggles and casting glances around to make sure you remained unseen. Finally, you reached the entrance to the kitchens, a place where the house elves bustled about during the day and night, cooking and baking the delicious meals that filled the Great Hall every day. 

You tickled the pear in the portrait, and the entrance swung open to reveal the warm, inviting space of the Hogwarts kitchens. The room was a hive of activity by day, but now, in the late hours, it was quiet in here. The house-elves, always so helpful and friendly, had agreed to let you use their space for your baking adventures. Their big eyes (they were the size of a tennis ball!) and cheerful smiles greeted you as you entered, and a few of the elves lingered to offer assistance if needed, but most retreated to give you privacy, seeing you had arrived with your boyfriend, hand in hand.

The kitchen was vast, filled with long wooden tables, towering shelves stocked with every ingredient imaginable, and gleaming copper pots and pans hanging from hooks on the walls. The scent of spices and baked goods from the diner lingered in the air. The hearth, usually roaring with flames, was now a gentle glow, casting a warm light that added to the cozy atmosphere.

You and Mattheo set to work. "Alright, Chef Riddle," you said with a teasing grin on your face, helping him to tie an apron around his waist, "let's see if you can keep up."

He shook his head at you and offered you an arrogant smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just try to keep up with me," he retorted, grabbing a flour sack with a dramatic flourish.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you began gathering the ingredients for your chosen recipes. Tonight, you had decided to bake a variety of treats: cookies and pastries that had been on your mind for weeks. The house-elves had thoughtfully provided fresh ingredients, and the counters were soon laden with bowls of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

The first task was to prepare the dough for the cookies. You measured out the ingredients, your movements practiced and efficient, while Mattheo attempted to follow along, his competitive nature driving him to match your pace. 

"Don't forget the vanilla," you reminded him, adding a splash to your own bowl.

He nodded, carefully measuring out the extract. "Got it. How do you know so much about baking anyway?" he asked, his tone curious but impressed.

You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "Years of practice with my grandmama. She taught me everything I know."

As you mixed the dough, the rich, sweet aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the lingering scents of past meals. You stole a glance at Mattheo, who was diligently working beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, usually so busy with his wand, were now covered in flour and sugar, a sight that made you giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked, feigning offense but unable to hide his smile. There was no way he could. Your smile brought out the best in him. 

"You," you replied, leaning over to swipe a bit of flour onto his nose. "You're a natural baker."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just don't expect me to start wearing one of those frilly pink aprons."

With the cookie dough prepared, you moved on to the pastries. Rolling out the dough, you instructed Mattheo on how to fold in the butter to create flaky layers. He listened intently, his usual loud temperament now tempered by a genuine desire to learn by your side. You worked side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you passed ingredients and tools back and forth.  The house-elves had left a pot of hot cocoa on the stove, and you poured two mugs, the rich, velvety liquid a perfect complement to the cozy atmosphere.

"Cheers," Mattheo said, raising his mug to meet yours with a wink. 

"Cheers," you replied, clinking your mug against his. The cocoa was rich and creamy, warming you from the inside out.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, Mattheo’s deep gaze lingered on your face. "You’ve got a bit of flour . . ." he said softly, leaning in. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. 

His hand lingered there for a moment longer, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. The playful atmosphere shifted, and the well-known tension filled the space between the two of you. Time seemed to slow as he moved even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Before you could fully process the moment, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, tasting faintly of cocoa and the sweetness of the evening.

You responded instinctively, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pulling you even closer than you were. The kiss was both gentle and urgent, warming your soul and mind. 

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. The kitchen, with its warmth and golden light, felt like a different world, one where only the two of you existed. Mattheo’s dark eyes searched yours, a mixture of vulnerability and affection hidden in his irises.

"That was..." he began, but you silenced him with another quick kiss, smiling against his lips as your fingers gripped the hair at the back of his nape. 

"Perfect," you finished for him, your heart full to bursting.

In that quiet, golden-lit room, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of your sweet boyfriend, you knew you had found something truly special. The baking, the laughter, the stolen kiss – it all came together to create a moment of pure magic, one you would cherish forever.

03 - PAINTING 

The art room at Hogwarts was a hidden gem, tucked away in a lesser-known corner of the castle not so many students knew about. It was a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with the scents of paint and canvas, the walls adorned with student artwork from years past. The large windows let in the afternoon sunlight, casting a warm glow over the space. Easels stood ready with blank canvases, and tables were laden with paints, brushes, and palettes.

You and Mattheo had decided to spend the afternoon here, taking a break from the usual hustle of school life.

"Alright," you said, setting up your easel and arranging your paints. "Remember, every five minutes, we switch."

Mattheo nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Got it. But don’t expect anything too impressive from me. I can barely draw a straight line."

You laughed, squeezing a bit of blue paint onto your palette. "That’s the fun of it. Just go with the flow."

With everything ready, you both took your places in front of your easels. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustle of brushes on canvas and the occasional clink of paint jars. You started with broad strokes, laying down a wash of color to form the background. Your movements were confident and sure, years of practice guiding your hand.

Mattheo, on the other hand, approached his canvas with a bit more trepidation. He dipped his brush into the paint and made his first tentative strokes, glancing over at you occasionally for inspiration. You smiled reassuringly, giving him a thumbs-up. Despite his self-professed lack of skill, there was something endearing about the way he threw himself into the task, determined to make the best of it.

The first five minutes flew by, and soon it was time to switch. You moved to Mattheo’s easel, examining his work with a thoughtful smile. He had started with a simple landscape, a few rolling hills under a blue sky. It was basic, but it had potential. You picked up a brush and began to add your own touches, blending colors and adding a bit of story to the scene.

Mattheo moved to your canvas, eyes widening at the intricate swirls of color you had already laid down. "Wow," he murmured, "how am I supposed to add to this?"

"Just do your best," you replied, a playful challenge in your voice.

The next five minutes passed in a blur of color and creativity. You found yourself getting lost in the process, enjoying the way your styles melded together. When it was time to switch again, you couldn’t help but laugh at the changes Mattheo had made to your painting. The Slytherin had added a few playful touches, turning a serene sky into a playful scene with cartoonish clouds.

"Nice touch," you said, grinning at him as you moved back to your easel.

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "I figured it needed a bit of character."

As the afternoon wore on, Mattheo grew increasingly confident. With each switch, he added bolder strokes and more imaginative elements to the paintings. His hesitation gave way to a sense of pride and enthusiasm that was too difficult to not return. You found yourself enjoying the challenge of working with his unpredictable thoughts, the paintings slowly turning into mosaics of your combined efforts.

By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the art room, you both stepped back to admire your work. The canvases were a glimpse of color and creativity, showing the teamwork you put into it. The landscape Mattheo had started was now a dreamlike scene, with white clouds and pretty flowers woven into the hills and sky. The painting you had begun was equally transformed, full of charm and ideas. 

Your boyfriend crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad for a guy who can’t paint, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not bad at all. I’m impressed."

He tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I’m more talented than I thought. Perhaps I missed my calling as an artist." 

"Don’t get too full of yourself, Riddle. But I have to admit, you did better than I expected," you rolled your eyes playfully at him. That was your man, after all. 

"Better than expected?" he repeated, brows furrowed as he brought a hand to his heart. "I think you mean I was brilliant."

You reached up to brush a stray bit of paint from his cheek, your fingers lingering for a moment. "Alright, Picasso. I’ll give you that. You were brilliant."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Thanks for teaching me. I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "We should do it again."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. "Definitely."

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #hp x reader #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin #x reader #reader insert

[obliqueblade]

Hello everyone 💛

As many of you are aware today should have been Technoblades 25th Birthday. His dad asked us for our way of remembering him on this day.

I discovered Techno’s channel back in 2019, and for the experiences I got to have as apart of the community I can never be more thankful for. Techno was and always will be an inspiration.

I’ve talked about this is certain places before, but I was diagnosed with a form of Lung Cancer a few weeks before Techno released his first video about his diagnosis. I was worried, but I was also comforted because while I was undergoing Chemo, surgeries, and drug trials; the person I looked up to the most was undergoing the same thing.

Realistically, I thought Techno would outlive me.

When the news broke, I was devastated, and I largely gave up on trying to get better. I cannot put into words just how badly it affected me, and then a few short weeks later I lost another friend to leukemia.

But, I survived this time too. I realized that when I died, all the memories I got to make as a part of this amazing fan base would disappear- and I didn’t want that.

However, I knew it wouldn’t last forever. For those of you who have seen my tumblr, my health has been steadily declining the past few months.

I don’t want it to come to a surprise when I don’t live through this summer.

I’m not upset by this, in fact, I’m amazed I’ve gotten nearly four years after being diagnosed. I’m grateful to everyone for being apart of my memories.

I’m grateful for this community- for remembering Techno.

I’m grateful to Technodad for making sure his son’s memory is used for good, despite the grief it brings him.

I’ve recommended to my mom and dad his videos and posts about how he’s been getting through his grief, and I hope that when the time comes it can help them as much as it’s helped me.

I’m not saddened to go. I’ve had a good run.

Happy Birthday Alex.

For my Tumblr peeps, don’t worry about the story. I’ve written how each chapter shall go, and while I most likely won’t be the one writing it after this coming chapter it will be in the hands of someone I trust. While the words won’t be mine, I know they’ll follow the way I wanted the story to go.

I’m not sure if it will be me updating again, and when it might be if so.

Thank you guys so much for all your support with this fic. I cannot express how much it means to me that there are people out there who have enjoyed it.

Take care 💛

#technoblade #technoblade25 #sick #hermitcraft #happy birthday #cancer #desert duo vigilante au #hermitblr #desert duo #superhero au #grian #cute guy grian #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 writer

[annabelle--cane]

at first it was like, "this is a sensitive topic and a vulnerable population that the author is exploiting for cheap horror," and then when jonny sims came out as a former addict who wrote the episode based on his personal experiences, they switched to quietly grumbling about how okay well maybe he is an addict but it was still insensitive to make the protagonist trans, trans addiction experiences are totally different from cis addiction experiences so it's still something he has no right to write about, blah blah blah

oh riiiight I do vaguely remember that, and the discourse about that one line that implied that francis experienced transphobia. I remember finding it weird that the point seemed to be "why does tma only portray real-world bigotry when it comes to its trans characters and with no one else?" when jared hopworth was vaguely homophobic to jon and martin literally one episode prior.

#tma #answered #anons

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/751445319499317248/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost75113540651

She did not "basically write fanfic about Unit 731", and that's exactly the weird sort of game of telephone that led to her being relentlessly harassed by people who had not even read the book (there were claims that it was set in WWII, because the 'Unit 731 fanfic' lie was spread so far that people only heard that and decided to jump on the bandwagon) and decided she deserved to be publicly eviscerated for it.

From what the author has actually said about her inspirations for the book, she started writing it years before she found out that the ghost stories she was told as a child by her grandfather (who lived through the occupation) were about a real, specific atrocity, rather than just broadly about colonization--which makes sense considering the only part that seems directly inspired by Unit 731 is revealed near the end of the book and is the major twist that ultimately carves the scales from the MCs eyes with respect to the enemy prince in question.

Also, she didn't 'whitewash' the Japanese, and that kind of claim is really galling because would it actually have been better if she'd based the Evil Empire on Japan instead? Would that really have gotten people off her back? (And in fact I can very easily understand why someone whose family lived through such a brutal occupation would want to get some distance in a story that is partially processing those feelings and experiences by not modeling the Evil Empire directly after the country that brutalized her own; especially since a significant portion of the story involves the main character having very complicated feelings for the prince of the Evil Empire.)

If you want to talk about the writing not being great or your belief that the author didn't achieve what she set out to, that's fine, although I gather from this ask that you haven't actually read the book, which is at minimum a prerequisite to talk with authority about how any given topic or plot point is or isn't handled. I, personally, think it's incredibly tone-deaf to police how someone else writes about their own cultural heritage and family history with oppression and colonization, and that is very much how so much of this criticism comes across, especially considering how much of it is from people who fully admit to not at the least reading the book to form their own opinions about it. And for some reason, this form of criticism seems to be aimed disproportionately at authors of color, who are given much less grace and freedom to be just kinda mid or handle things poorly than white authors.

(Just as an example, I've never seen anyone call Avatar: the Last Airbender 'basically CCP fanfic' even though the fantasy prison where political dissidents/troublemakers are tossed to be tortured/brainwashed into compliance in Ba Sing Se is literally named Lake Laogai, after the Chinese political prisons/labor camps.)

--

Yeah, that last part is the crux of it, isn't it? People need a little room to work on their craft. More marginalized creators, indie creators, and people working on media with smaller audiences are afforded less. White dudes making TV shows are afforded a whole lot. Seems like it would be fairer the other way around!

[bonefall]

Any thoughts on Moonpaw’s design? Do you plan to make her appearance a bit more unique/utilize the chimera a bit more?

Honestly I think her canon design is pretty fantastic! I don't agree with those who're saying it's not unique lmao, like, the team's never been THIS creative before. She blows Pure Gray Cats 3, 4, and 5 out of the water.

But, boy oh BOY am I gonna have fun with this one. Last night I sketched up a possible combo for each Moonpaw from the options I presented. Whichever one gets picked I'll tweak more, but I went ahead and made a 'base' character design for each one.

Also bonus: Headshots for all of the possible parents. Note the slight update for Stormcloud, I figured out a better way to draw his cheek fluff and changed his stripe pattern a bit

Whatever designs end up not being used for Moonpaw, I'll probably tweak for another new litter. ThriftPlum and ShellFern's hypokits will slot well into the eventual ShellFern litter we (HOPEFULLY) get soon, and with a slight edit, StormCherry's can be a new Honeyfur.

PlumThrift

This one's becoming the least likely to happen I think. It could still win if it's the most fitting with the arc, supposing canon ends up writing a strained relationship between Moon and her parents, but based on the preview stuff that's not the case.

Still! I do like the Two Soccer Moms And Their Weird Child lmao.

Thrift and Plum are a downright deadly united front. They play Good Cop Bad Cop like they're practically telepathic. So I tried to get that across in their headshots.

Plumstone always looks laidback and chill. Thriftear exudes an aura of seriousness.

Their weird child inherits neither of these things. She looks like she eats bugs.

I decided to make this Moonpaw look REALLY fluffy. Plumstone inherited her grandpa Graystripe's body type, so it would be a shame if Moony didn't get it too.

FlipBay

BB!Bayshine is a DustFern descendant. He has his great-grandfather Dustpelt's plate.

The stripes come from grandfather Birchfall, who gave them to mother Duststripe.

Flipclaw is strikingly similar to his grandfather Lionblaze, back before he started balding.

While drawing this one I started trying to play around with the chimera idea more, that she's half of one cat and half of another. When the face plate came into it, it STRUCK me like lighting

It looks like phantom of the opera!!

So I started experimenting with one side being shorter-furred, and got a draft down before moving on to a waaay more in-depth design.

This was the last one I did last night before going to bed, so I'll post the evolution I made in a separate post. It's the one with the most potential thanks to the plate so it got pretty big.

ShellFern

Most Moonpaw designs are chunky, but I've always seen Shellfur as pretty slim. Definitely the slimmest in his recent family-- since Graystripe, the Dapplekin family has been thick and fluffy.

Mix that with Fernstripe, a WindClan cat, I made this Moonpaw resemble some kind of gazelle.

Fernstripe has this long, "fern-shaped" stripe on her body. Paired with Moonpaw's half-black body it looks kind of like stitches which is, imo, cool as fuck

I let her crescent-tufts add to the shape too, they curl in like horns... though, I am worried it looks too much like Curlfeather.

I'll probably give this one another pass if Moonpaw ends up being a ShellFern baby.

Also this take makes her took a bit more grumpy so she's closer in personality to her dad.

StormCherry

This is actually the first one I did

Cherryfall has a perfectly round, cherry-shaped face. She actually looks a ton like her dad, Berrynose.

I wanted to give Moonpaw that same face, because hers is simply a half-moon.

She looks like a stressed-out eevee and I kinda dig it LMAO

In color, this Moonpaw would probably lean more towards red than ginger. I see Cherry as a reddish cat.

She could also inherit Poppy's special red eyes-- she got those from being fetched away from StarClan by Jayfeather. Shadowsight also got them.

The stripe pattern is from Stormcloud. I decided recently that I'm going to try and limit thunder-shaped stripes to the Tigerkin family, something they inherit from Thunderstar himself. So Stormcloud's are now transverse across his body, with a distinct nose snip.

When I finally do decide StormCherry's kits, be that now with Moonpaw or later, I'll standardize Stormy's new stripes by giving him a new fullbody.

#better bones au #bone babble #sketch requests #BB!Moonpaw #Hypokits

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i just read your sae fic and it was absolutely amazing, gorgeous, life-changjng! and when i went on to check your masterlist for bllk, i was shocked when you were the one who wrote the nagi x reader x kira fic bc I've been following it for a while and then i immediately tapped the follow button :x but if you can (only when you have the time and energy), can you write rin whose family is a host for exchange student! reader from another country? it could be hs or college, depending on whichever you're comfortable with. thank you <33

── CHERRY TREE

Synopsis: You are one hundred percent convinced that Rin Itoshi hates you — and he does, but not exactly in the way you think.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Rin x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.2k

Content Warnings: cheesy and cliched asf, otoya and KARASU <3 make brief appearances, rin is rude ngl but reader is as well, rin does not know what a “crush” is, he’s probably ooc as well atp i should just include that on all of my works jic

A/N: i can’t believe i started bllk because of a rin edit and yet i’ve never written for him…also i’m glad you liked seabird and peregrine anon!! thank you for following 💖 sorry it took me a min to respond to this

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

If you didn’t know that your parents would probably put you in an early grave for wasting their money, you would’ve caught the next flight back home from Japan in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, you were far too afraid of their ire, which meant you were stuck in this hostile environment until the end of the semester — assuming, of course, that you managed to survive for so long.

Over the summer, applying to your university’s special first-semester-abroad program had seemed like a good idea. You were already going to be traveling far from home to stay on campus regardless, so your reasoning was that you might as well experience a different culture while you were at it. Besides, the program claimed to pair participants with a host family that would be good fits for their personalities and needs — based on a survey, which in hindsight you really should’ve lied on — so you would be living in relative comfort, at least compared to the ancient dorms on the main campus that probably had thirty different species of mold growing on their walls.

Or, well, that had been the plan. Maybe it was even a reality for the rest of the people in the program, who had no doubt been placed in normal homes, with normal people, who had normal children and normal lives. For you, though, it could not be further from the truth — because you had had the great misfortune of being chosen to live in the same house as Rin Itoshi for the duration of your stay in Japan.

To put it simply, he hated you. He had started hating you from the moment you stepped foot into his house and put your things in his brother’s old room, and he had not stopped since. If you happened to cross paths with him, he’d scoff at you, and considering the fact that the two of you lived in the same house, this was a frequent occurrence. Whenever you tried speaking to him in Japanese, he’d wrinkle his nose and respond in English, telling you that you were so terrible at the language, you might as well give up now and move back to your country early. Once, his mother had suggested he take you to hang out with his friends, as you were all roughly the same age, and he had rolled his eyes so hard that it was a surprise they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head.

There was no doubt about it: your mere existence was a burden to Rin. You couldn’t explain it in any other way; after all, how could he have decided he disliked you before you had even spoken? So you did your best to be as helpful and kind as possible, keeping the house neat, cooking food whenever the elder Itoshis had to work late, staying silent if he happened to enter the same room as you, and offering nothing but slight smiles if you were forced into an interaction with him.

“You know,” Mrs. Itoshi began one day, as you were eating the dinner she had made for all of you. Rin was on your right, and Mr. Itoshi was across from him, his jovial face such a contrast to his son’s dour look. “Rin’s on the Japanese soccer team.”

“Wow,” you said noncommittally. You hadn’t known that; you had assumed that Rin’s hobbies involved throwing stones at unsuspecting children and tripping old ladies as they crossed the street. Soccer had been the last thing you expected, though it did explain his admittedly splendid physique. “Very impressive.”

“Not really,” Rin said. 

“Why don’t you take her to watch your practice over the weekend?” Mrs. Itoshi pressed. 

“She’s not interested,” Rin said. Of course, you really weren’t — why would you want to watch Rin and his friends kick around a ball for a few hours? It would be a waste of time, time that you could spend working on homework or clearing your ‘to-be-read’ list. But you also weren’t fond of people speaking for you, especially not him. He was the last person who could claim to know anything about you, so by what right could he say that you weren’t interested?

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind going,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him innocently when he glared at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression one of utter disgust and incredulity.

“There you have it! Be sure to introduce her to your teammates. I’m sure they would love to show her around,” Mrs. Itoshi said. Rin snorted.

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” he said, though when he did, it sounded different than what Mrs. Itoshi had surely meant. But you were obviously the only one who picked up on it, and you didn’t want to make dinner unpleasant, so you could only ponder what he might’ve meant in your head instead of asking him outright, as you really wanted to.

Although it was the weekend, Rin’s practice was early in the morning, before the day could really heat up and make exercising unbearable. That meant it was before even the sun’s rise that you were following after him, your books clutched in your arms as you waited at the bus stop.

“Why’re you bringing all of that?” he said when the awkward silence grew to be too much for either of you to bear.

“I’m planning on getting some homework done while I’m there,” you said.

“Why didn’t you just stay home if you wanted to do homework?” he said as the bus pulled to a stop in front of you and the doors flew open. Due to the early hour, there was almost no one else on the bus, but given your unfamiliarity with the route, you still followed after Rin, sitting across the aisle from him and putting your things on the seat beside you.

“I dunno,” you said. “I guess I wanted to meet your teammates. Since they would just love to show me around.”

“Stay away from them,” he said. “They’re a bunch of NPCs. All of them are probably the worst people you could ask to show you anywhere.”

“NPCs?” you said. “That’s pretty harsh to say about your own peers.”

“It’s not like we’re friends or anything,” he muttered, crossing his arms petulantly. “I’ll call them what I want.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” you said, massaging circles into your forehead to ward off your impending migraine. Rin raised his eyebrows.

“Got a headache?” he said, in that same clinical, detached voice he always used.

“Yeah,” you said. And you’re making it worse. You wanted to add that, but you thought it probably wouldn’t be prudent, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Don’t stay up so late on your phone, then,” he said. 

“It’s the only time I can call my friends and family. They’re in a different time zone,” you explained before pausing. Why did you feel the need to justify yourself? It wasn’t like Rin particularly cared either way. He was just giving you that advice because he wanted to boss you around and be rude to you. It was a symptom of dislike, not worry.

You had imagined Rin to be an obsessively punctual person, but to your surprise, it seemed like you both were actually some of the later ones to show up. Perhaps the rest of the team was even more concerned with earliness than him, or maybe you had somehow caused him to be later than he typically was, but either way, by the time you walked onto the field, the others had already gathered, chatting amongst themselves while they waited for their coach to arrive and start the practice.

“There he is! We were beginning to think the world might’ve ended,” a boy with dark, styled hair and a beauty mark beneath his left eye said with a grin. “Nothing less could get you to miss practice, eh, Rin?”

“It still might have,” another boy said. His pale hair was streaked through with green, and he wore an inviting smirk as he pointed at you. “Yo, girl. What kind of blackmail does he have on you? Blink twice if you need help. We’ll get you out of there.”

“Um, he’s not blackmailing me or anything…” you said, glancing at Rin for aid before remembering that he would probably rather jump off of a cliff, backwards and into the jaws of a dozen waiting sharks, than help you out.

“So you’re hanging out with him willingly?” the pale-haired boy said. “Yikes. You can do much better.”

“I kind of have to hang out with him,” you said. “I’m staying with his family for the semester.”

“Oh, you’re the exchange student!” a third boy, this one with icy blue hair and wide, pretty eyes said. “We’ve heard a lot—”

“All of you, be quiet and leave her alone,” Rin said, finally, thankfully speaking up. “Otoya, don’t even look at her, or I’ll make sure you’re benched for the rest of the season.”

The pale-haired boy — Otoya? — held his hands up in the air and whistled innocently, shooting you a wink when Rin turned to address the rest of his team. You raised your eyebrows but suppressed your giggle, not wanting to condemn him to further rebuke from Rin.

“This is Y/N L/N. She’s the exchange student my family is hosting. She wanted to come watch our practice because…actually, I don’t really know why,” Rin said shortly. “But she’s just going to be doing homework on the bench, so if any of you were planning on showing off to impress her, then you can give up on that idea now.”

Otoya noticeably wilted at this, but the others didn’t seem to mind. The first boy, the one with the beauty mark and the strange hairstyle, gave Rin a thumbs up.

“Don’t worry, Rin, we’ll leave the showing off to you. It’s about time you—”

“Shut up!”

They must’ve begun practicing at some point, but you hardly took notice, too busy typing up the outline for an essay you had due in a couple of weeks to care much about what they were doing. Occasionally, someone would shout out a particularly creative insult, and you would have to pause your work to identify the trash talker in order to be able to congratulate them later, but for the most part, you were lost in your own world.

“Hey.” Just the sound of Rin’s cool voice was enough to send shivers of fear down your spine, and you hastily closed your laptop as you looked up at him. “Practice is over.”

“Okay,” you said. “Will you introduce your teammates to me now? I know you told them who I was, but I’d like to at least meet some people my own age.”

“Nope,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on, I only even came because I wanted to meet them!” you said. “Outside of school, you’re the only one I know. I get that you don’t want me infiltrating your friend group or whatever, but you literally said you don’t like these guys, so why’s it a problem if I become friends with them?”

“They’re so dull and half-baked that your opinion of this country will actually fall if you interact with them further,” he said. “This is just my national pride talking. Come on.”

You stomped after him. What was his problem? He didn’t want to be nice to you, but he also didn’t want anyone else to, either. Was he that determined to make you miserable? Why couldn’t you have been placed in a family with children who weren’t so weird and annoying? Which question had you answered incorrectly on the survey that had resulted in your match-up with the Itoshis? You wished you could retake that stupid quiz and end up somewhere else. You wished that Rin had been the one sent to Spain instead of his older brother, who was certainly more well-adjusted. You wished that you hadn’t chosen to study abroad at all, that you had instead stayed at home with your friends and had a typical first semester like everyone else.

After that day, you stopped even pretending to be polite to Rin. Both of you were cold, hissing insults whenever you passed in the hallways of the home, leaving the room if the other happened to enter, and generally doing what you could to make each other’s lives difficult. It was only in front of Rin’s parents that you maintained some semblance of civility; after all, making Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi choose sides in your silent war would be unethical and wrong.

“I really don’t get it,” you said to your best friend one night, the covers pulled up over your head, your phone screen dimmed so that you were not blinded by its light. “He’s such a jerk, and for what?”

“Boys suck,” she said, hunched over a calculus problem set. The time difference meant that sun streamed in through her window as she wrote, illuminating the shining graphite of her neatly penciled answers. “Did his teammates mention anything suspicious the one time you met them? They’d probably know better than you or I why he’s acting the way he is. Maybe this is just how he is with everyone — if that’s the case, then you can be reassured that it’s not something you’re doing wrong.”

“Not really,” you said. “He forbade all of them from talking to me. Which, by the way, is a real tragedy, because some of them were super cute.”

“Really?” she said.

“Want descriptions?” you said.

“As much as I would like to say yes, I need to focus on this problem set, and anyways, it’ll just make me jealous, so no,” she said.

“Jealous? Let’s trade places, because at the moment, I’m jealous of you. Maybe all of the guys at your school are ugly, but at least you don’t have to deal with Rin!” you said.

“Is Rin attractive?” she said. 

“No — actually, yeah, I can see why a person would think he is,” you said. Personal biases aside, Rin really was very handsome, and that combined with his aloof arrogance afforded him the aura of a YA novel’s male lead. There was no doubt in your mind that he was popular with girls; however, you doubted he himself was aware of this fact. “He’s such a dick that it cancels out, though.”

“Personality is important,” your best friend said. “Oh, fuck!”

“What?” you said.

“I’ve been forgetting to add the integration constant to my answers. Easy fix, no worries. You can keep talking,” she said.

“Thanks,” you said. “There isn’t really much else to say.”

“Well, if you couldn’t get anything out of his teammates, why don’t you try talking to him?” she suggested. “Ask him to his face why he doesn’t like you.”

“Isn’t that kind of uncomfortable?” you said.

“Not like things can get much worse than they already are,” she said.

“True,” you said. “But the thought of confronting him is actually sickening. I’ll pass. This is character building, isn’t it? I’m going to come back home as an entirely new woman. You won’t recognize my mental strength and fortitude.”

“Sure, looking forward to it. I miss you,” she said.

“Miss you more, but it’s pretty late here, so I’m going to have to hang up,” you said, yawning.

“Goodnight, Y/N, and sleep tight. Don’t let Rin Itoshi bite!” she said.

“Oh my god. Go do your homework,” you said, hanging up before she could respond and almost immediately passing out as the moon rose higher and higher in the sky.

Things between you and Rin continued on in that tense manner for the next few weeks, until you became convinced that your heart might give out from the stress. You couldn’t continue to live in this way. You were supposed to be enjoying your time abroad, not counting down the days until you could finally go home.

Rin was watching a horror movie on the computer when you barged into his room. A woman screamed in sync with your entrance, and you jumped at the jarring sound. Rin did not react, clicking on the mouse to pause the film and then turning in his chair to face you.

“What?” he said.

“What? What? What do you think?” you said.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I had the faintest clue why you were storming into my room in the middle of the night,” he said coolly, crossing his arms. “The movie was finally getting exciting, too. So, what do you want? Hurry up and say it.”

Your eye twitched. “I want to know what your problem is.”

“Huh?” he said. 

“Why do you hate me? What have I ever done to you that’s made you so determined to ruin my life? I could even understand if you didn’t want to hang out with me, but you brought me to your practice and then refused to let me talk to just about anyone! What’s the big idea? I just want to enjoy my semester!” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “That’s easy. You’re ruining my soccer career.”

“I’m ruining your soccer career,” you repeated dubiously.

“Yes,” he said.

“Care to elaborate on how I am accomplishing that, exactly?” you said, your hands on your hips. “I went to one practice, and I didn’t even speak the entire time. If your career can be ruined so easily, then it isn’t much of a career in the first place.”

He huffed in aggravation. “I keep thinking about you. It’s messing with my head. I need to focus on soccer and getting better, but for some reason, I can’t stop my thoughts from wandering to places they shouldn’t. It’s worse because I can’t escape you. If I could have just one day to clear my mind, I could forget about you and get back to considering more important things, but you’re always there, worming your way back in.”

Now it was your turn to be confused. “What?”

“I don’t get it, either. You’re not that special, so why can I quit it? Even my teammates have begun to notice. The other day, Isagi told me to go home early because I was ‘bringing nothing to the team.’ Isagi said that! Yoichi Isagi said that I was useless!” he said.

“That would be a lot more impactful if I knew who that was,” you muttered.

“You’re only here for a few more months, right?” he said. “After that, I can get back to my earlier performance and things will return to usual. Just leave me alone until then.”

Confronting Rin had the opposite effect that it should have. Instead of making things better, they actually became worse. What did he mean by saying that you were ruining his soccer career because he couldn’t stop thinking about you? What a stupid excuse! You weren’t that tiresome, so for him to claim that you were taking over his mind because of that was an offense. 

“Y/N, Rin, will you be alright by yourselves for the week?” Mrs. Itoshi said when, once again, you all were gathered to eat dinner. The Itoshi parents had thankfully not yet noticed the enmity between you and their son, so family meals were a regular occurrence — meals in which you and Rin were made to sit by one another and act kindly, lest you make things awkward for Mr. and Mrs. Itoshi, too.

“It’ll be fine,” Rin said, answering for the both of you, the downturn of his mouth daring you to argue. “You guys should have fun in Spain.”

Apparently, Sae had invited his family to visit him in Madrid for the week that he had off from training, but unfortunately for the both of you, Rin was unable to go due to his practice schedule. It was unfortunate for Rin because it meant he couldn’t see his older brother, who he had the world’s most complicated relationship with, and it was unfortunate for you because it meant you couldn’t get a break from Rin’s dramatics.

The week started off normally enough, which meant that you and Rin did not speak, leading your lives with as much separation as was possible. It was actually easier than you were expecting, mainly because Mrs. Itoshi had left you both enough food to last the week, so you could eat when you wanted to instead of having to sit with one another. Gone were the days of turbulent coexistence at meals; now, you could finally enjoy eating without worrying about the boy beside you! You almost wished his parents would never come back, just because of that rare peace.

The fourth night was when it all went wrong. You were video calling your best friend as a storm raged outside, ranting to her about your professors and the heaps of homework you received every day, when the lights flickered.

“Is something wrong with your wifi?” she said. “You’re breaking up.

“It’s raining,” you said. “Pretty hard. The power’s kinda spotty, but I’m hoping it holds—”

The universe must’ve heard your words and decided to play a joke on you, because in that moment, the lights turned off and your call disconnected with a sad beeping sound, alerting you that your poor connection was what did you in. Pouting, you set your phone aside and stared up at the ceiling of the room, deciding you might as well try to fall asleep, given the late hour. Even if the power was out, you wouldn’t be able to tell with your eyes shut, so it was really the best option.

There was a scratching sound on your window, causing you to jolt into a sitting position once more. Rin had watched a horror movie just like this the other day. You remembered it clearly because you had turned on a rom-com once it had finished, and he had called it lukewarm, which made you so mad that you had turned the TV off and gone to take a shower instead.

What had been the plot, again? Oh, right. The power had gone out, and the victim thought that it had been because of a storm, but it had actually been a serial killer taking advantage of the weather to mess with her house’s fuse box. He had done it so that the cameras didn’t catch him as he climbed into her house through her unlocked window and stabbed her in her sleep. The resolution was that her neighbors saw him and called the police right before he killed them, too — yeah, it was a pretty gory film. Lots of blood and knife wounds. You weren’t sure what enjoyment Rin derived from watching it, but you figured it was another one of his irrational attributes that defied explanation.

Another scratching sound. Had you locked the window? What if the power outage wasn’t due to the storm at all? What if Rin had accidentally manifested the same ending for you as that stupid movie? And you were home alone, too, the scenario was just so similar…

This time, the scratching sound was more like an eerie drag of fingernails against the glass, and you couldn’t help yourself. Squealing, you turned the flashlight of your phone on to guide your way as you sprinted out of your room, racing towards the only other inhabited place in the entire lonely house.

“Rin!” you shrieked, convinced that the shadows were actually ghosts come to haunt you and strangle you and bury you alive. “Rin, wake up! We’re both going to die!”

The door to his bedroom banged open, and you pointed your phone at him, the harsh white glow sharpening the angles of his features, the awkward hang of his pajamas off his body, the way his normally neat hair stuck up in every direction. 

“What are you talking about?” he groaned, using his hand to shield his vision from the blinding radiance of your flashlight.

“Do you remember that movie you were watching the other day? The scary one, with the fuse box?” you said.

“Yeah?” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. “Point your flashlight at the ground, stupid, or you’ll blind me.”

You did as he directed, belatedly remembering that the two of you very much did not like each other. But beggars could not be choosers, and it remained that at the moment, Rin was your best chance at survival, so you had to stick close to him.

“It’s happening,” you whispered. “It’s literally happening to us right now, as we speak. The serial killer already cut our power, and now he’s trying to break in through my bedroom window, and then — and then he’s going to kill us!”

“I cannot believe you woke me up for this,” he said.

“I’m serious!” you said.

“Seriously dumb,” he said. “Why would somebody try to kill us?”

“Don’t you have any rivals that hate you? Maybe they’re taking advantage of the storm to do you in while they have the chance!” you said, creeping closer to him.

“I play soccer. I’m not in a gang,” he said dryly. “No one’s going to come murder me for being better than them, trust me. Or else I’d already be dead.”

“Go see for yourself, then!” you said. “Wait. But I’ll go with you. People who split up in horror movies always die. There’s real merit to the ‘safety-in-numbers’ theory.”

“How many horror movies have you watched, to make you such an expert on them?” he said.

“You always have them playing, so of course I’ve learnt by osmosis!” you said, inching along behind him as he trudged towards your room. He gave no response bar a click of his tongue as he yanked open the door you had slammed shut in your haste, striding in authoritatively, grabbing your phone and lighting his own way with it instead of relying on your shaky hands.

He pulled the curtains open with a flourish, and you cringed, using his broad back to hide yourself, expecting to see some grotesque face and keeping your eyes screwed shut so you didn’t have to be met with the visage that would spell your death.

“Hey. Y/N. Open your eyes, dumbass. You made me get up because of a damn tree,” Rin said, shaking you by the shoulder. 

“A what?” you said, opening your eyes against your will and then blinking properly when you saw there was nothing there but the boughs of the cherry tree planted in front of Sae’s room. The frenzied wind caused the branches to rub against the window, and this, you realized, was the source of the sound you had been so afraid of. “Oh. A tree.”

“I’m going back to bed,” he informed you. “Wake me up again and you really will be dead, but it’ll be at my hands, not some imaginary serial killer’s.”

You tried. You really tried to stay asleep — you were an independent woman, weren’t you? You had gotten full marks on all of your midterms. You had flown to a different country and learned to live there without much trouble. You had shared a house with Rin Itoshi for the past couple of months, and he was more like a creature out of a nightmare than anything else ever could be. Sleeping alone when the power was out was a piece of cake. You could do it. 

It was not, in fact, a piece of cake, and you could not, in fact, do it. Tip-toeing to Rin’s room, you knocked as lightly as you could, half-hoping that he did not hear. You doubted he had made his earlier threat lightly, after all, and there was a real chance that this action would be your last.

“What now?” Rin said, answering the door a few seconds later. You crossed your arms and stared at the floor obstinately, your pride not allowing you to say anything. He waited for a moment, and then he pinched your upper arm. “Are you sleepwalking? Hello? Wake up if you are, so that I can get to bed myself. I have practice tomorrow, and I need to be well-rested!”

“I’m not sleepwalking!” you said. “I can’t.”

“You can’t sleepwalk? Okay,” he said. “I didn’t really care either way, so there was no need for you to tell me.”

“I can’t sleep at all!” you said. “It’s because of those dumb movies you always watch and those creepy games you play. I keep thinking that something’s going to happen, even though I know that those things aren’t real.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, like he was trying to discern whether you were telling the truth, and then he ran a hand through his hair.

“You have problems,” he said. “They aren’t real, but whatever. Come in.”

“Uh, what?” you said.

“I’ll take the floor, and you can sleep in my bed,” he said, rolling his eyes like you were the ridiculous one for being taken aback by the offer. “That way you can be less nervous.”

It was the kindest thing he had ever done for you, and you almost called him out for it, but then there was another crack of lightning, so you opted not to argue, darting into the room after him and diving into his bed without a second thought.

“Hand me a pillow,” he said, settling on the ground with a blanket he pulled down from the top shelf of his closet. You were about to throw it at him before wavering, considering what he was truly doing for you. Rin Itoshi, who was so careful with his body, who was a pro athlete that required an exact amount of sleep and the perfect balance of nutrients, had woken up in the middle of the night twice and was now offering to sleep on the floor, all because you were afraid of a power outage. 

If only there was electricity! You needed to call your best friend and get her opinion on this. You had avoided telling her the results of your confrontation with him, believing that she would just make fun of you, but for some reason, you thought she might be interested in this development. You thought that she might be the only one who would understand it, because obviously, neither you nor Rin did.

“Um, you can have the bed, if you’d like,” you said, pushing the blankets away reluctantly, your neck protesting at the mere prospect of spending the night on the hardwood. “It’ll be bad for your back if you’re on the floor.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “At least, it won’t be, if you give me that pillow.”

You caved, giving him the pillow and rolling to the opposite side of his bed, which was even larger than the one you were used to. He grunted out a thank you, and then both of you were silent, but it was obvious that neither of you were asleep.

“Rin.”

“Yes?”

“We could share. Your bed is pretty big, so if we put pillows between us, it won’t be weird. Anyways, it’s only until the power comes back, and then I’ll go to my room, so it won’t even be for that long,” you said. The suggestion was met with sputtering from the ground.

“You — me — what — share? No way! No way, terrible idea, why would you suggest that?” he said.

“I just feel bad that you have to be on the floor, that’s all,” you said. “Especially because it’s your room and you’re doing me a favor.”

He didn’t say anything for so long that you were certain he must’ve fallen asleep. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor for you.”

“Really? I thought you hated me, though,” you said. The bed creaked from an unexpected weight dropping on it, and when you shifted, you saw that he had settled beside you, fluffing up a pillow to serve as a barrier, his face a light pink as he lay on his side to face you. You did the same, peering up at him over the pillow and swallowing when he did not avoid your gaze.

“I do,” he said. “A lot. But I also don’t.”

You furrowed your brow. “I don’t get it.”

“I’ve never been distracted by anyone or anything before,” he said. “That’s why I hate you. I hate things I don’t understand, and I don’t understand why you’re constantly on my mind.”

“Am I that annoying?” you said.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “You’re annoying every time you smile or laugh or say something — say anything, and you’re especially annoying when you act friendly towards my shitty teammates, especially that ninja bastard Otoya. You’re annoying whenever you talk to me, and you’re annoying when you do your homework instead of watching me at the practice you asked to go to. Your lukewarm movies are annoying, and so is your hatred of anything horror-related. It’s annoying that you’re nice to my parents, and it’s even more annoying that you’re better at coming up with insults than I am. You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

You didn’t need your best friend to translate this for you. Despite what Rin liked to say, you weren’t that stupid — you had been selected to study abroad out of hundreds of applicants, after all, and for the first time, you were so grateful for that fact. Because the thought of somebody else being here, in this bed, hearing these things from rude, haughty Rin Itoshi, was unbearable.

“Do you have a crush on me?” you said. He immediately stiffened, his eyebrows drawing together, low and heavy over his half-lidded eyes.

“No,” he said.

“Sure,” you said. “That’s good, because I’m going to leave soon. It would be problematic if either of us liked one another.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“You’re annoying, too, just to be clear,” you said. “The most annoying guy I’ve ever met in my life. Super annoying.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. 

“I’m telling the truth. Once I go back home, I’ll be incredibly bored. No one back there could ever hope to irritate me even half as much as you do,” you said.

“Good,” he said, and at that you smiled into the softness of his sheets, hiding the expression from him. “They’re not allowed to. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this, so the reverse should also be true.”

“I won’t be able to come here again for a while,” you said after a bit. “Likely years. I’ll be busy with school and work and my friends and family, so it’ll probably be goodbye forever when I go.”

Rin’s voice was sleepy when he spoke, reminding you of the late hour and how early he had to wake up daily.

“Then I can finally focus on soccer again,” he mumbled. “That’s a relief.”

You reached across the pillow to pat him on the cheek. “Yes, you can.”

“After I retire, I’ll come and find you,” he said. 

“That long?” you said. “What if I forget about you by then? Because I might.”

“Don’t,” he commanded. “Wait for me. Let me win the next World Cup, and then…and then…”

 His words trailed off into a soft exhale as he finally succumbed to sleep. You allowed your hand, which still lay against his face, to trace his jawline before retracting it and holding it close to your heart. 

He was definitely still a jerk, but maybe you did not hate him quite as much as you had thought You did. Actually, maybe he wasn’t that bad at all, and maybe you could not imagine what an existence without him, which you had craved so desperately only days earlier, might be like. 

You weren’t sure what would happen if that day he spoke of came, if he did fly across the world to find you after the next World Cup. Would he still be himself, or would he be some gentler version? And what of you? Would Rin Itoshi still be someone you paid any mind to, or, by then, would he just be a not-so-fond memory? The strange boy who may or may not have had a crush on you, who was obsessed with soccer and horror movies, who argued with you constantly and made you more infuriated than you had ever been…well, if you thought about it, then there really was no chance of you forgetting him at all. Not so quickly.

So you sighed, turned away from him and let your own eyes shut as well. The house was dark and still, the familiar hum of the refrigerator silenced, the crushing of the ice-maker temporarily halted. Only Rin’s steady inhales and exhales cut through the blackness, lulling you to sleep despite the atmosphere you had previously found sinister.

“I guess I have no choice, huh?” you said as you, too, drifted off. “Brainless, rude, pesky Rin Itoshi. Fine, then. If that’s how you want it…I’ll wait. Just until the next World Cup, I’ll wait for you.”

#rin x reader #rin x y/n #rin x you #itoshi rin #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

[fanaticsnail]

today being children's day we will have the pleasure of something thematic? 👀My dog really wanna know (but 0 pressure of course, just curious)

"0 Pressure", you say - but all I hear is "Dad Shanks and Baby Uta fic ASAP please."

I had no idea it was Children's Day today, and I had to pump this out because it lives in my head rent-free.

What do I do?

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+

Synopsis: Uta is going through a leap week and Shanks is an overwhelmed teenager. He does his best to soothe her, but becomes overwhelmed by the wailing cry of his daughter. He calls the one person he knows has hands on experience with a situation exactly like the one he's found himself in.

Themes: Not an 'x reader' fic. Baby Uta, teenage parent Shanks, supportive crew, uncle Rayleigh, parenting things, parenting advice, Shanks is a dad, fluff.

Notes: I hope you enjoy a little bit of a cathartic fic based on parenting experience. I cried writing the end. Happy tears.

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @jintaka-hane

Down the hall in the dimly-lit corridor, the Red-Headed captain Shanks had his eyes hanging half-lidded and surrounded by a puffy purple hue. He attempts to soothe the inconsolable infant in his arms with a gentle rocking motion, and marching from one side of his quarters to the other. 

Why did he think he could do something like this? Why did he think it would be so easy to care for a baby he found at sea with his crew? He knew better than to go back to Beckman for help: his first mate had finally asked for a week off from “Uta-Duty” after doing nights while Shanks charted the courses he laid for the next destination.

The wails of her shrill cry carry on through the rocking and swaying, and tears begin to pool in the teenager’s eyes. Shanks feels so overwhelmed and helpless, wanting nothing more than to aid Uta through her ailment so he can finally get some sleep. She arches her back and straightens out her limbs with her face red and brows furrowed. 

“Shh, sweetheart,” he hushes in a soft tone, attempting to cradle her back into his arms and rock her, “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.” Uta’s cries turn to whimpers, her vibrant purple eyes widened and looked up into his brown orbs. Both the teenage Shanks and the infant Uta held mirrored expressions. 

Wide globes of vulnerability stared into each other with a glossy sheen threatening to spill over their lash lines further. Uta’s reddened face scrunched up once more, her whimpers becoming a wailing cry with her eyes clamping tightly shut. Shanks sighed, his own tears finally spilling over his waterline, staining his cheeks with a trail of emotion, and trickling down to his chin. 

“I-I-...” Shanks began slowly sitting down at his desk with Uta continuing to cry in his arms, “...I don’t know what to do, sweetheart. What do I do? P-Please, Uta. What do I do?” 

He looks at his desk, noticing his Den-Den snail glaring at him with equally sunken eyes over his features. Shanks sighed, reaching for the snail and beginning to chart in the digits for the one person he thought would be able to help him. He lifts the receiver to his ear and sniffs back another sob into the mouthpiece. 

The Den-Den on the other end of the call rattles, a male voice picking up and giving a lazy “Kid, that you?” 

“...Uncle Rayleigh?” Shanks stuttered into the mouthpiece, the cries of Uta floating eagerly into the transceiver with his cracking voice. Rayleigh sighed into the mouthpiece, a soft smile growing on his lips. 

“That my favorite grandbaby cryin’ there, son?” Rayleigh’s easy drawl called through the receiver, “How many weeks old is she now, Shanks? About seven months or so?” 

“Y-Yes,” Shanks’ voice whimpered into the mouthpiece. Rayleigh hummed in contemplation, and Shanks could almost picture the soft bob in his head. 

“One o’ them wonder weeks, I think,” his rumbled tone relayed back to him, “All I can tell you is it’ll pass. You’re in the thick of it based on her cry, but it won’t be forever. Okay, kid?” 

Rayleigh waited on the other end of the call, his duvet slipping off his chest and falling to his lap as he spared a glance at the clock at his side. No sounds other than the cry from Uta reverberated in the mouthpiece. 

“You still with me, son?” Rayleigh asked the young captain, who only granted him a choked whimper in response. 

“How’d you do it, Uncle Rayleigh?” Shanks’ cracking voice and quivering lip physically depicting his distress with Uta’s cries only growing louder. “You were my age when you found me. How did you do it? Because I-I-... I can’t-... It’s-... Sh-She-... She doesn’t stop.” 

After a deep sigh from Rayleigh, he pinched his brows and turned once more to the snail.

“Lean on your crew for a few days,” he hummed thoughtfully, all truth and full of well-practiced patience. “Get your chef to prepare meals for you in advance. You sleep when she sleeps, you wake when she wakes, and you lean on your crew, boy. Trust them to guide you, give Uta to Beckman for a bit while you get a more lengthy rest, and do your best.” 

Shanks allowed his tears to flood his face, heavily sobbing as he listened to the first-mate of captain Roger. 

Both Roger and Rayleigh raised him aboard the Oro Jackson from toddlerdom. Shanks was found by Roger exactly the same as Uta was found by him. If there was anyone with sound advice and sure experience, it was this glasses-wearing, blonde haired, ex-first mate to the King of the Pirates. His Uncle Rayleigh. 

“Thank you, Uncle Rayleigh,” Shanks whimpered into the mouthpiece, feeling Uta beginning to settle in his arms and bury her face into his chest, “She-... She’s calming down a bit now. I think I’m gonna try and get some sleep.” 

“You do that, son. And know this…” Rayleigh spoke into the Den-Den quietly, prompting Shanks to lean his ear into the shell while cradling Uta into his arms. 

“...You’re doing great.”

Shanks sniffed back more emotion from escaping him as he hung up the Den-Den shell and slowly walked Uta to her crib at his bedside. Slowly placing her onto her back, Shanks looks down at her peaceful face and lays down at the very edge of his bed. Slotting his hand over her crib, he gently places his index finger within her balled fist. 

“You are so precious to me, my daughter,” he sniffed, his lip quivering the longer he stared at her smaller face, “We’ll get through this together. I promise, sweetheart.” He slowly retracted his arm and placed his hand beneath his face while lying on his knuckles. 

“I love you, Uta. My little song,” he whispered, his body finally giving in and prompting his heavy eyes to finally shut, “My precious daughter.”

The night carried on, the gentle swell of the waves shepherded both Shanks and Uta into a heavy slumber. The teenage captain never once regretted the decision to claim the child as his own, his decision to raise her aboard the Red-Force being one of the better decisions he had made. 

Before he woke, Rayleigh had already called Beckman’s Den-Den and filled him in on the interrupted night, and gave him several orders to follow to best support the young Captain. Beckman took Rayleigh’s word as law, barking orders to the crew to give Shanks all the time and space he needed to usher Uta through this stage of childhood development. 

Shanks remained ever grateful that he chose this assortment of sailors to travel with, his crew being the crutch he could lean on in his time of need. He loved each member of his crew so much, especially the small bundle laying soundly asleep in her crib beside him.

#one piece #shanks #uta #beckman #rayleigh #silvers rayleigh #red haired shanks #benn beckman #baby uta #teenage shanks #parenting advice #one piece RED #one piece platonic #ask snail #snail answers #op shanks #op uta #op beckman #op rayleigh #red hair pirates

[offtorivendell]

On Elain, Gwyn and their apparent romantic worthiness.

TW: mentions of death, violent or sexual assault, infertility and pregnancy/childbirth related trauma. Please do not proceed if these topics bother you.

Disclaimer: please, please engage with this post with kindness. I promise I am not writing it to stir the pot, but because I - and many others - are fed up with seeing hurtful and harmful rhetoric spewed by the fandom, yet having no back up when dealing with it. Word vomit incoming, I'm sorry. This has been bothering me for a while.

My love to everyone who has been hurt by things they've read in this fandom. 💜

It's 2024 and I cannot believe we are still seeing posts, almost daily, about both of these women; all giving reasons why they cannot possibly be with Azriel. And I don't mean the debatable but utterly harmless discussions about Elain not looking good in black or Gwyn blabbing to Merrill when asked not to. Whatever, go nuts. I mean the truly horrific takes based around things these two women have had no control.

Now, my post history makes it very obvious where I stand in terms of ships, and yes, I'm well aware I've spoken before about the inherent power imbalance - that I perceive - which would exist if Azriel ever became involved with any of the priestesses in the women's shelter he is charged with protecting (to be clear, that's not me suggesting that Gwyn and her story isn't powerful, or powerful representation to those who see themselves in her, nor is it personal to Gwyn, or indicative of any of the sheltered priestesses and their ability to heal; it's purely a function of Azriel's position of authority over their sanctuary). I want to reiterate that my stating my feelings about this was never done with the intent to shame people who do ship them; we all ship who we like, and real world ethics should rarely come into it.

That being said, the following, in my opinion, is one of those times.

Firstly, I just want to say that lived experience informs how we interpret fiction, so please let me clarify something: the people who have said that they don't think Gwyn is ready for a relationship yet, and that NSFW fan art of her with anyone makes them uncomfortable, are not in any way in the wrong. They're simply the other side of the coin to those who find it empowering, and both are valid responses, often related to personal trauma. The problem lies with those very few who say that Gwyn could never have a romantic relationship, and call those who talk and/or post about it "gross." Some have called her "damaged goods." This is absolutely wrong and whoever is doing it needs to stop.

The entire fandom, even those who find romantic or NSFW content involving Gwyn uncomfortable to consume, frequently acknowledges that her trauma doesn't define her, and of course she should be able to enjoy love whenever she feels ready for it. Those who say otherwise are readily condemned from all corners. I've seen it happen and called the people out myself, as have many other Elriel shippers when necessary. However, Elriels are still very regularly and very publicly blamed for the actions of a few (some of whom I truly believe are burner accounts wanting to cause chaos, with their Elriel themed usernames and no post history), despite our largely collective action to call them out when we see it.

Could we do better? Absolutely, but so can you!

Because, on the other hand, I've noticed that, whenever I or others have tried to explain why the pliable bones "theory" - which attempts to reason that Elain could never be endgame with Azriel, as she and any baby would die during the course of pregnancy or childbirth - is equally as harmful, we are met with people publicly and wholeheartedly refusing to understand why (especially recently). Some horrific comments have been made to my friends, not to mention all of those I see well after the fact, which are never widely condemned by any but us. People will argue back that we're wrong, and have even suggested we're weaponising infertility! On Mothers' Day, of all the fucking painful days to say that.

Some of the push back I've seen recently includes:

"Nobody has said Elain is infertile."

No, nobody has, and that's not what we're saying or have ever said. We know you don't think this, as the Elucien fandom loves to write and draw Elain and Lucien's hypothetical future children (which is super understandable, as this is a romantasy fandom after all - no shame, enjoy your warm fuzzies).

What we are saying is that, if it's true that Elain's anatomy wasn't changed as Feyre and Nesta's was - and to be clear I cannot stand that entire plot, I wish SJM had chosen literally any other reason why Feyre's pregnancy was dangerous, as it is simultaneously degrading and doesn't fit with her previously established lore - then Elain and Azriel, together^, would be functionally infertile. Yet it's only ever framed as Elain's body not being able to work with Azriel's, never the other way around.*

^Why didn't the bat boys have to sacrifice their wings to keep their wives/mates safe? Why did the women have to change their anatomy? Because it would make it harder for them to be all powerful? Well Nesta sacrificed her powers! Why not just have Feyre be cursed by an enemy or something, and Nesta found a way to use the Dread Trove to save them all. Ugh. I love SJM's books, but this was such a miss.

*HOSAB/HOFAS SPOILER: funnily enough, this was never said about Ruhn and his eventual mate, even though he actually did think he may be unable to father children, thanks to the Oracle's prophecy. People shipped the hell out of him and a couple of different women throughout the CC series, despite the chance he could never get them pregnant.

"People haven't called Elain damaged goods, so it's not the same. We're allowed to not like her."

My faerie porn* lover in christ, what the fuck do you think the pliable bones "theory" is actually doing? It is suggesting that Elain's hypothetical inability to survive having children with Azriel, and for those children to also survive childbirth, is impaired. Ergo, she's damaged.

We don't care if you don't like Elain, we're allowed to have different preferences in characters and ships. That has never been the problem.

*I use this term with affection as a great lover of the genre.

But "damaged" vs a functionally "impaired" uterus? It's the same damn thing, and sorry, it's misogynistic af, not to mention ableist and homophobic at a minimum. In the same breath you are also reducing your favourite to her apparently functional uterus (even though the pliable bones argument is medically inaccurate, by the way - this is really damning of the state of health education across so many countries).

"Hahaha/lol."

Yes, I have seen people laugh and treat this as a joke. As recently as tonight, in fact. It's disgusting.

Regardless of your lived experiences and shipping preferences, both of these takes about Elain and Gwyn are equally degrading and horrific and need to stop, but if you're only calling out the comments that hurt you/your friends/your ship and not the others, then you should maybe attempt some basic self reflection and analyse those double standards you're carrying.

This entire fandom needs to do better. I'll say again, for the umpteenth time, to any of my fellow Elriels that if you think mocking Gwyn's past is funny, then you're not mature enough to read an adult series. But this works both ways, and if you think mocking infertility is funny/use it as a win, then you're just as immature. I would really and truly appreciate it if we were not left alone to argue over and over again why discriminating against someone who couldn't "have a man's children" is wrong, and why many, many people in this adult fandom - that is largely comprised of women! - might find such a theory, and the resulting discourse, incredibly upsetting.

Infertility hurts; not having a kid when you want one can be viscerally painful. Besides that, I know very few people who have given birth who don't carry around some sort of emotional or physical trauma from doing so. Treating a character's hypothetical infertility with one man as a joke is gross.

Please don't call Gwyn "damaged goods" or suggest that Azriel would choose somebody else over Elain because she couldn't have his kids.

They are the same thing.

It's not hard to be kind. Pain is not a competition.

We should all do better, and take care of each other.

#acotar

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

Donald Trump was NOT convicted by Joe Biden, he was NOT convicted by the Judge, he was NOT convicted by the District Attorney.  Donald Trump was convicted by a jury of his peers. A jury, I should note, that Trump was personally “very much involved” in picking per his lawyer Todd Blanche on CNN Thursday night. And that conviction happened in the state where Trump committed his crimes after a full trial that lasted more than a month where Trump was represented by a team of very experienced lawyers who presented his best defense. That is how our Constitution and criminal justice system works. There were no surprises here. As I predicted in my article before the trial began, “Trump is going to be a Convicted Felon by June." That was based on my experience as a trial lawyer and after reviewing the evidence the prosecutors had laid out in their pleadings. Common sense said that the only reason Trump paid Stormy Daniels “hush money” ten years after their affair —but just a week before the 2016 election—was to defraud voters of the truth. To that end, Trump falsified business records to conceal his illegal scheme. The jury saw the facts as they were, hence Trump was found guilty on all 34 counts and is now a CONVICTED FELON.

Yet now we see Trump and MAGA reject the jury verdict by attacking it as “rigged,” a “sham,” etc. MAGA House Speaker Mike Johnson called the verdict, “the weaponization of our justice system.”  Marco Rubio weighed in on Twitter, writing, “The verdict in New York is a complete travesty that makes a mockery of our system of justice.”  The always awful MAGA Rep. Elise Stefanik, posted, “Today’s verdict shows how corrupt, rigged, and unAmerican the weaponized justice system has become under Joe Biden and Democrats.”  Spineless Tim Scott said on CNN Thursday night, “This was certainly a hoax, a sham” with the even worse Ted Cruz stating, “This entire trial has been a sham, and it is nothing more than political persecution.” And the list goes on and on. But this is no surprise, it’s part of MAGA telling us they reject our Constitution and the foundations of our democratic Republic. After all, Trump and MAGA rejected the 2020 election results because Trump lost. They rejected the criminal justice system when they smeared the indictments against Trump as being a sham. And now they publicly reject our jury system, which is one of the cornerstones of the US Constitution as laid out in the Sixth Amendment.

The question that must be asked is given Trump and MAGA reject our elections, our criminal justice system, the rule of law and our Constitution, what exactly do they support?! The answer is simple: Convicted Felon Trump. That’s it. [...] Let me repeat what I’ve been writing and saying for months: Don’t count on the courts, the prosecutors or a jury to save us from Donald Trump. We are the only ones who can do that by coming out in huge numbers to defeat him this November. This may sound jarring but it’s the truth: MAGA is a cancer. If allowed to metastasis, it will kill our democratic Republic that so many sacrificed so much to defend. The good news though is that the cure to MAGA cancer is right in front of us. All it takes is voting in big numbers this November.

The butthurt MAGAs crying and whining about Convicted Felon Donald Trump being convicted on 34 charges for business records falsification is more proof that the extremist anti-American MAGA cult needs to be crushed at all costs.

See Also:

Vox: Why the ludicrous Republican response to Trump’s conviction matters

MMFA: MAGA media rage in response to Trump's 34 guilty verdicts

RWW: MAGA Martyrdom Machine Portrays Felon Trump as Victim, Vows Revenge

HuffPost: Right-Wingers Are Already Promising Vengeance After The Trump Verdict

Daily Kos: Republicans choose MAGA lunacy over the law after Trump's conviction

#Donald Trump Trial #Donald Trump #People of New York v. Trump #Todd Blanche #Marco Rubio #Tim Scott #Elise Stefanik #Ted Cruz #Mike Johnson

[sullustangin]

Spoiler Free SWTOR 7.5 comments

As it says on the tin.

Honestly, I am really liking the consistent content that Broadsword is putting out. Big patches are 4-6 months apart, little ones are pretty regular. Each patch -- whether it's a big 7.x or it's a 7.5.x -- has something that tries to address a player request/complaint. Since Broadsword took over, the amount of content might be more modest in terms of scale, but it seems like more care has been applied to it. Based upon the player survey and other quality of life improvements -- and even some hasty u-turns--, they are taking player feedback into account. I feel better about the game in Broadsword's hands than I did with Bioware.

Technically, I did not experience major problems with the patch. As reported in the patch notes, there is one cinematic where a key character's mouth does not move. That doesn't break the game, though you may want to wait to record the scene if you're into that. There's another point where you have to hit the right spot on the floor for your jetpack to disappear so you can pass through the next door, but that's an easy fix. Gearwise, I'm seeing reports of being at least in 332 greens, but as usual, player skill may vary.

Patch 7.5 starts the conclusion of the two storylines that have taken the mainstage of 7.0: the Holocron of Nul storyline and the Heta Kol storyline, which started back in 6.2 (pandemic patch). I feel like some of the "huh?" in the plot was baked in from where Bioware started it, so Broadsword is trying its best to finish the story they were given. Is it a busfire? Yes. Is it their fault? No, but they have to finish it.That said, this patch actually makes the player make choices, and you AGONIZE over them. It's not just personnel choices but also diplomatic ones. I haven't felt that way in a considerable amount of time. Yes, you do make choices in 7.0, but it's one person living or dying, be a jerk or don't be a jerk. Lower stakes. The stakes are higher here in 7.5 -- or at least it feels that way. That's an important part of game writing: even if the choice does not matter, there needs to be the illusion that it does -- a certain level of immersion. You do have cascading consequences of choices as well. I'm looking forward to playing this patch on my LS toon to do different choices, more so than I did previously. "Let's not be a jerk this time" is less than compelling than "Can I do it differently, this time?"

Overall, there is progress in the storyline -- this doesn't feel like a "busy work" patch or "here's a new daily area to keep you occupied". (To be clear, I loved the Port Nowhere and Ord Mantell content in 7.4 -- it was a giant love letter to smugglers -- but at the same time, it was a bit of filler, to be honest). The quests you need to do are necessary to gain the trust of a naturally fearful faction of sentients (no spoilers) -- it makes sense they aren't your besties for life right off the jump. You will yell at the screen at the end of the whole thing, because it does make sense and yet it's the worst option for your character, personally, and it's out of your hands. (And it is not out of character for the person who makes that decision...)

No new date night content -- maybe in 7.5.1. There is some romance content for those of us that romanced Lana and Theron.

If you are big into Mandos and have been impatiently waiting for Lane to give you a buzz, this is your time and your hour. If you enjoy training hunter pets in other games, your time has arrived.

There is also a new Spring Festival event on Dantooine. In truth, I find it sort of derivative of the Tillers' reputation you could earn in World of Warcraft during Mists of Pandaria. It isn't exactly the same (we don't have a cooking profession), but the general ideas apply, right down to the dailies involving having a beer and going fishing, as well as scouring the world for seeds. There's also animal rescue built in here as well, so it's a bit of everything for any hero who wants to retire or at least slow down.

But of course, something sinister is on the farm, and so I anticipate Scooby Doo Mystery Hour shall continue as the event carries on.

~~

Given that Broadsword "maintains" games such as Dark Age of Camelot, there has been the fear that they'll move SWTOR into retirement, but I don't think that will happen, as it's still a live intellectual property (Star Wars), they're making gobs of money off it due to Cartel Market, and there's still a player base. (And let's be real, Favereau and Filoni play it, and they do matter to Disney and EA.) I don't know when 8.0 will come out, so we may have another round of storylines in 7.0 -- sort of like how we had an extended 5.0 (Iokath and Traitor Arc) after Bioware was stripped down in 2017. That said, Onslaught was quite good after the KotXX shenanigans and dev changes had settled. I still hold the view that Bioware is a sinking ship, and EA moved the Goose that Lays the Golden Egg to Broadsword for safekeeping. I think we might get an 8.0 in 2025 or 2026, but how that will look or work -- no idea.

#swtor #swtor 7.5

[nicromancytarot]

WHAT DO YOU NEED TO FOCUS ON RIGHT NOW?

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I get for the readings, but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that is just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD TAROT READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to focus on right now, pick a picture and find out what they had to say!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

Pile 4 ———> Pile 5 ———> Pile 6

PILE 1

Maintaining relationships and friendships is the most important thing for you guys right now. It’s been proven hard for people to hold up friendships and relationships of those who they are about, as lots of people are becoming less tolerant towards bullshit. Perhaps you’re not being the best version of yourself towards your friends right now. I’d recommend taking a look inside yourself and figuring out what is making you act out in possibly not the best ways, and how can you help yourself, and make up with others in the process?

PILE 2

You guys need to focus on your money and how you are treating it, I don’t know if you’re being too lenient, or too stubborn with your spending, some of you will fit into their of these. Make sure you spend responsibly. For those of who who have the money and are scared to spend it because you fear you will lose it, you won’t - you can spend an amount without worrying about not making it back, because you will gain that back. For those of you who are the opposite and spending too much, or too impulsively, take a breather and allow yourself to take a break from spending for this next month, only spend money on necessities.

PILE 3

You guys have a decision that you need to make right now, something in which you are very confused or stuck towards. I’m assuming this decision to be quite life changing for you guys, so get thinking and try to figure out the best choice for you. Not to scare you my pile 3’s, however if you don’t make this decision and choose the direction or path you desire to go down, the universe will do it for you, and they will lead you to that tower moment to get rid of everything and start again.

PILE 4

This is a very specific message, so if it doesn’t resonate, choose another pile. For the ones of you who this does resonate with, you guys seem to currently be struggling on whether or not you want to give your heart to someone. You may have been hurt in the past and now worried about opening yourself up to a person in such a way. Don’t stress so much about this, you will find and make the decision that is right for you.

PILE 5

Focus on your healing journey so those around you who have hurt you and caused you great sadness will be able to feel that of what they made you experience. Your reading is themed heavily around karma that can only be achieved once you heal yourself and accept that these people hurt you. Take your time, not too much, but allow yourself to figure out who these people were and what they did to you. You are so incredibly powerful, the universe wants you to heal so they can have your back and get at those who have hurt you. For a very select few or you, this could theme around legal trouble, gather your evidence and keep it all orderly for when you need to speak about it.

PILE 6

You guys need a breather, take some time to just relax, rest, stop doing so much. You guys are very busy, some of you are really into the whole nightlife scene, and are constantly out partying until early hours of the morning. Take a moment from it and relax, you need to rest instead of working or doing so much constantly. Allow yourself to relax for the love of god. SLEEP.

#tarot #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #tarot witch #free tarot #tarot reading #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile

[sparkyskid]

BLeeM, renowned improv storyteller and lore builder, used improv storytelling skills to create a joke-based rival group in a season about rage and justice (XP leveling bad and unfair). He did not go to public school. All the fans, who largely did go to public school and tend to be queer/neurodivergent, resonated strongly with the unintended theme of the ways schools cannot possibly reach every student in the way they need to be successful.

BLeeM, who did not go to public school, likely didn’t realize this theme, only that something was compelling. As an improv storyteller, it works because it is compelling. Rage and Justice in high school goes hand in hand with feeling like the system is rigged against you. He integrated this in a way he was familiar (privileged cis straight white person with perfect home life has nothing to write on college essays and vilifies an already struggling minority about it, and XP leveling can be very unfair because it can be cheated). These are the ways that TRG and KLCK are intended to be antagonists in the story.

As fans, we have FAR more time between episodes to consider themes and implications and metatext. BLeeM, who is doing it largely improvised in a short period of time, and who never went to public high school, likely simply missed that this was a possible theme that was emerging. And that unintended theme resonated SO STRONGLY with an audience of public schoolers who (in some way) were all let down by the school system due to queerness/neurodivergence.

The unintentional themes that emerge from a body of work is where you see glimpses of the author’s identities and biases. In this case, that being BLeeM having not been in the public school system.

It is still a theme in the work- and I agree that it is what makes FHJY so compelling. But an improvised storyteller who didn’t go to public school and is recording this entire show in a very tight time window is simply not going to have the time and space to pick up on a theme so deeply personal to the public school experience. Frustration is logical, but at some point you gotta put on your “basic literary analysis” hat and realize that pobody’s nerfect and a creator can’t be aware of all the unintended themes that show up in their work.

D20 is a show with a format, and the constraints of how it is recorded means there is a lot that has to be planned from the start, and there is only so far that one can deviate within the realm of things happening. The themes that get wrapped up with a bow are intentional (Rage, Justice, XP leveling). The themes that don’t are unintentional (everyone slipping through the cracks of the school system to varying degrees). The group rightfully saw it as compelling and kept returning to it. But the tight time frame of recording a season means they may not have had time to sit down and specifically realize the theme and it’s most satisfying conclusion. We the fans had that time and space to realize it. Herein is the disconnect between our experience and the experience of those who participated in FHJY. And why the pre-recorded interviews are unsatisfying to so many- the unintended theme is still not brought up.

Tbh if D20 was more like CR or TAZ or D&Daddies in the sense of recording and releasing in real time, there likely would have been enough time and space for the participants to see how the fan base resonated with the theme of being left behind by the school system, and they would have been able to continue the improvised storytelling to incorporate more of that explicitly, and wrap up the theme at the end. But it isnt- it’s all prerecorded in a short time window, and nothing will get changed or added once they wrap. This is a limitation of the format. We get incredible production value, music, elaborate battle maps and countless minis, at the cost of everything being done by the time anyone sees even a moment of it.

The ending and the epilogues are meant to wrap up the themes that are present, but if the theme was unintentional or unnoticed, it won’t get wrapped up because no one realizes it’s there. This is a loss, for sure. But it is one I can forgive, because of the context of recording the improvised show in a narrow time frame where they have some planned story beats they have to make sure to get in regardless of where the improvised part takes them. The cast was focused on other things. They didn’t have time and space to realize the elaborate meta narrative about how the school system is so “we have to try to reach everyone, one size must fit all” that a lot of children get left behind because everyone’s needs are so different.

We, as students and teachers and support staff around the school, are quick to identify this unintended theme because we are surrounded by it already. The improv storytellers we are watching are not, and they are on a tight tight time crunch to get it all recorded and hit all the beats they need to hit to make the intended story work.

#d20 #d20 fhjy #fantasy high junior year #the rat grinders #basic literary analysis #themes and context #context is everything. it informs and restricts and explains the themes of a work

[sasster]

Respite

Uhm, I’m gonna post some not fantroll writing here okay? Because Kurt told me to. Okay. Thank you for understanding, I hope you like it :) [doc] — After the liberation of the people of Aeilur, Qei’eleritte was delighted to find that they were still interested in a diplomatic relationship with the Cardali. Though the threat of war with the peaceful giants was always nonexistent, he’d been worried that they would be uninterested in allowing the mingling of their worlds after the conflict. And that would mean there would be no opportunity to explore their planet after all was said and done.

But that isn’t the case, thank the Gods of both Aeilur and Cardalith. He makes a mental note to learn more about the former’s theology and creation myths later. For now he sits, just as he promised himself in the heat of battle, at the base of something that might be a tree but he doesn’t know enough about to make a judgment on. It juts out of the ground, swaths of fur growing up and down its length, like a giant fuzzy limb that curls as though reaching for the orange alien sky.

A pleasant aroma wafts off of it, one that he thinks smells somewhere between an orange blossom and a rose bush. The curious plant has become his favorite of what little he’s seen of Aeilur in his first visit. He will ask someone for its name.

Qei sits there, not in the green star pattern of his natural form, but shapeshifted into the form of one of the pacifists that call Aeilur home. They resemble bipedal pachyderms and this form of his, though unique to him, was no different. The most uncomfortable part of the transition was the second pair of arms that burst forth from beneath his shoulder blades. He stares at this new pair of hands, covered in a thick brown coat like that of a wooly mammoth, and expels a breath out of his new trunk-like proboscis.

This action results in a good natured trumpeting, something that he recognizes as a satisfied hum in his natural form. The sudden attention to his trunk reminds him of the pair of sisters he saw wrestling earlier in the day, their trunks undulating between them in a taunt when they weren’t grappling.

He tries to mimic the action with little success. The taunting must be more subconscious, then. Or perhaps only some are capable of doing it on command.

As he stares at his new pair of hands, he presses the other pair into the soft fur of the tree behind him. It gives little yield and his hands fully sink in. The furs bristle into little pricks, but not painful ones, before his hands find the spongy surface of the tree. This interaction causes the flowery aroma to become stronger. He closes his eyes and leans his back into the tree, and sighs out another good natured trumpet.

It never ceases to amaze him, getting to experience a new world through the eyes of a people that were built for it.

Just in front of him movement causes his eyes to snap open. The line of trees, similar in size and fragrance to the one he has his hands pressed into, rustles gently and part to make way for an elder Person of Aeilur that, if he stood fully, stands a head taller than him as he is. She would be much taller if he were to assume his natural form. She is clearly older by the way the tip of her trunk curls back in toward her body, opposed to the loose display typically sported by the younger members of the populace. It is a much tighter, almost arthritic hold that curves her trunk.

The other tell is the way her thick sea of tan fur is interrupted by flashes of silver and white streaks, primarily along her arms and across her head. From her head sprouts, uncharacteristic for these gentle giants, twin braids that swirl a good deal of of her longer graying furs down the left side of her face, past the round lobe of her ear and drawing attention to the string along her neck that holds four small tusks close to her chest. The longest of which with a point that stops right where her first set of arms begin. He figures these are from children or grandchildren.

She stops when she sees him, clearly having not expected to find a stranger in this clearing, and he makes quick work of getting to his feet. Then he lowers his head to her with one of the hands from his lower set extended to her, palm up. A show of respect he both read about and saw with his own eyes when the sisters he watched play were wrangled in by an older male.

This elder female closes the distance between them and unfurls her trunk to tap his palm gently, signifying her acceptance of the gesture. When she takes a seat beside him, he pauses before joining her.

“[I must be honest with you],” he starts in her language, but she cuts him off with a quick trumpetting before her trunk recurls.

“I know you are a visitor,” she says in galactic standard, much to his surprise, that does not fit properly in her mouth. “You can stay as you are.”

Qei nods and sits, once again allowing his hands to press into the trunk of the tree.

A sound like a hum vibrates her trunk.

“You like the jam tree?” She asks, reaching a hand to pet the tree's furs.

“Jam tree?”

“That is how visitors call it. It is good for making jellies,” her amused trumpeting does not end, further mangling the standard that does not fit around her tusks. “Here we call it Ahmhavar.”

“Ahmhavar,” he echoes the localization of what could be translated as ‘perfume tree’. “I can speak the Language of Aeilur. If you wish.”

“I can use the practice in standard.”

“Very well, I am Qei’eleritte,” he offers, butchering his own name in the process. The language of his people fits as well in his mouth as the galactic standard does.

“That may be too much for me,” she laughs and it is influenced by the pitch of her trumpetting. “Will you accept the playname of Ahmhatet? Unless you have already been named by one of mine.”

“Perfumed visitor?” He muses.

“You cannot deny its accuracy.”

He laughs too, soft and low in comparison to hers. “I accept Ahmhatet as my play name.”

“Good, my home name is Gihaiya,” and he thinks it is very special that she would share her family name with him, indicated by an inquisitive head tilt and trumpeting on his part. She waves the unspoken question away and continues, “But my play name is Eyha.”

“A pleasure, Eyha.”

Eyha nods her head in acknowledgement, but turns her attention back to the direction she came from. “Were you with the visitors that helped my people?”

Qei grips the tree behind him a little more firmly than anticipated and feels the fur on his hands mat with from the stick sap that is urged from the spongy base. The smell of rose and orange blossom intensifies significantly, which is not unwelcomed. He’d almost allowed himself to forget the disgrace to Cardalith that Falarittus and their scheme to take over Aeilur were.

He sighs and his proboscis produces a sound similar to a deflating balloon.

“I was there, yes. I ended his cruel game myself.”

“In that case, maybe you need a hero’s name, too.”

“I was only cleaning up a mess I let happen. Someone like that should never have been made to look after any lands. Much less did they deserve a paradise like Aeilur.”

She trumpets again, this time a chastising sound, and he lowers his head. “No. It matters that you helped make it right. The mehi does not fly from its nest before it is ready.”

“Yes, of course.” He acquises while also making a mental note to find a resource that will tell him more about the avian species, of which Aeilur houses many, she referenced.

A moment of peace lingers between them and before they can continue their conversation, something that sounds like a small stampede comes rushing in from the direction that Eyha faced. Qei guesses that it must be some smaller Aeilurians scampering towards them and then steps from someone much larger lagging behind.

Three children of Aeilur pop into the clearing, two younger ones chasing after the larger one, and each letting out delighted high pitched squeals when they spot Eyha.The two smaller ones had similar tan coats to Eyha, the older one’s coat was closer to black.

They waste no time piling into her lap.

 “[Now, now, little ones. Did you leave dad behind?]” She chides, lifting each one of the calfs to press her forehead to theirs one after the other and setting them on their feet again. 

“[He moves too slow!]” The largest of the three protests and the other laugh along with her.

“[Of course. This is my new friend,]” she gestures to Qei. “[He is a visitor.]”

The two small ones suddenly develop a touch of shyness, as though prior to this they simply did not register that a stranger was present. The oldest one moves in close and raises her trunk to him.

“[I am Hajiya! That is my play name. Do you play?]”

“[I do play, Hajiya,]” he replies, lifting his trunk in greeting as well.

“[What do they call you when you play?]”

“Ahmhatet.”

“[Because you smell good?]” And she follows up with a laugh, something akin to a giggle snort. “[Will you play with me, Ahmhatet?]”

Qei looks to Eyha who nods her encouragement. “[You will have to teach me your games.]”

“[We will! Come out here Heiha and Hafrahe. Lets teach the Visitor Ahmhatet how to play!]”

The smaller two run out again and rush Hajiya, causing the trio to tumble over into the grass where they begin a playful wrestle, Heiha and Hafrahe clearly having forgotten their shyness in the meantime.

After a short while of watching them tumble around, Qei offers a feeble, “[I may not be able to keep up with that energy,]” that Eryha laughs at and the children seem to ignore, having moved on to what appears to be a game of tag that sends the trio zigzagging about the clearing.

“You never want to tell a calf, much less a group of them, that they have too much life to keep up with,” a new voice offers in standard from the direction the rest of the family entered from. “They will use the information against you.”

This newcomer’s coat is darker in color, closer to the shade of Hajiya’s coat, and much shorter to the point that some of the pinkish skin beneath can be seen from certain angles when the wind blows it. If Qei has to guess, he would say that he and the man are around the same height and age group.

He sits directly near Eryha.  “Or do you not spend much time with children, Ahmhatet?”

Qei takes a moment to think about this, coming to the conclusion that no he does not get to see many children in his line of work, but before he can gets a chance to voice that observation, he is rushed by the small gaggle of calfs, who elect to climb all over him as their first order of business.

#coko writes sometimes #long post #qei #uhmmm #yeah! #<3 #thank u for reading if you do…… #i’d appreciate thoughts…. BUT NO.. PRESSURE!!!! #hehe i just ahd fun writing it

[blazinghotfoggynights]

If I am basing whether I think Buddie will happen on season 7 alone, I am going to have to say no. I think a lot of the last minutes rewrites were done to accomplish quite the opposite.

My take so far:

Tim seems to be in love with the Tommy Kinard character. Maybe he was originally intended to be a plot device, but it is obvious with the rewrites and forced in scenes that Tim Minear is really invested in Tommy and wants Lou on 911 much more. I believe that season 8 will be used to cement Tommy's place as a regular and even push him to the forefront, ahead of long-time recurring characters like Karen and Ravi. I think he will even get more time than Hen and Chim. I think the only way we don't get a big push for Lou to return and be the next breakout star on the show is if the main cast members all push against it. (Tim seems to be obsessed with the characters who made the 118 a racist, misogynist hellhole. 😒Ijs. Gerrard is back when anyone with RL corporate experience knows someone like him would be blacklisted by any organization that doesn't want to be sued into oblivion. I am sure DeLuca will make an appearance as well. I will probably write a meta about that entire situation.)

From 7 x 4 onward, in interviews and in the show itself, Eddie's heterosexuality has been stressed repeatedly. Buck finding his person has been heavily hinted at. Buck is chasing Tommy shamelessly. Tommy's problematic behavior is being ignored and justified by the writer himself. It is spun as positive, which fans are eating up. This is the setup to separate Buck and Eddie for good and start building up 911 to be the BuckandTommy show.

The absolutely loony arc of Eddie chasing his dead wife's doppelganger served it's purpose. It cemented Eddie's obsession with women. It placed a focus on Eddie's obsession with being with a woman, needing a woman, and being driven by a woman.

Christopher moving back to Texas is possibly the foundation for a Ryan Guzman exit. Christopher probably becomes comfortable in Texas and Eddie, the way he loves his son, will make the decision to go where he is. Maybe Ryan goes to Lone Star. Maybe he doesn't. But it will seal the coffin on Buddie for good, force all fans to accept BuckTommy, open the door the the new power couple, and set up Tim's boost of Tommy's character and Lou's more prominent place in the cast. I can actually see if 911 gets a season 9 and beyond, Lou being pushed to the front. With Ryan gone, and as Buck's partner, Lou could easily jump over every other member of the cast to become the second main focus. I think Buck will remain the primary focus in the foreseeable future,because he is a fan favorite. However, if the Lou fandom continues surging, even Oliver could find himself playing second fiddle.

I think Oliver is completely comfortable with portraying a queer character. But is Ryan? Just because someone did something in the past doesn't mean they are willing to do it now. I think there is a lot going on behind the scenes that is never going to be revealed while the show is still on. Maybe a few years after, someone will spill the tea, but not now. I know which members of the cast I am betting on speaking out first, post show.

Why is no one in that cast, other than Lou, bringing up Tommy or his relationship with Buck? Even the other half of that relationship talks about his coming out and realization arc, his growth, and being in a relationship, but he doesn't give the relationship itself the time of day. Buck and Eddie's dynamic was still being referenced a lot even when Buck is in a whole ass relationship with another guy. That's interesting.

I know the BTS clips are short and fun, but can someone provide one where Lou isn't obviously being ignored and if he is a part of it, it isn't awkward and forced?

#911 abc #911 on abc #9 1 1 buddie #eddie diaz #buddie #evan buckley #buddie 911 #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz

[mushhroooms]

Concern (Leon Kennedy x Self harming! Reader)

❥Content warning: depression, panic attacks, and self-harm (cutting on the thighs specifically).

❥ !! Authors note: Depression, self-harm, and Panic attacks are different for everyone, I based this on my personal experiences and what helps me so if someone is going through these things what I wrote may not be helpful to others so please don’t do any of this without making sure they are ok with it and that it would help them first. !!

❥I’ve been feeling horrible so I decided to write comfort for myself.

❥This is a long fic: 1323 words

  /)/)

( . .)

( づ♡     If you are going through any of this please look for help or talk to someone you trust.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Nothing was or went wrong, but it was like a huge weight had been placed on your heart.

You couldn’t feel anything other than the overwhelming sadness that flowed in your veins and swam in your brain.

There was nothing wrong, but you couldn’t shake the pure despair that overtook you.

You found it hard to do stuff and before you knew it, you had a work pile the size of a T-rex.

The added stressor only made you feel worse.

That’s when the thoughts came back.

Your brain spoke despite your heart’s protest and urged you

‘Come on, it won’t be too bad’ ‘Just a little cut won’t be too bad’

‘Just a little cut will make everything feel better’

And you shamefully listened.

Your thighs burned.

But you didn’t say a thing.

You couldn’t and no matter how much you wanted to scream and beg for help.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell anyone.

Due to the utter shame you felt.

Not even your boyfriend, who you trusted with your whole being.

He’s seen hell on earth and didn’t need your problems weighing on him as well.

You sobbed as you tore through your skin.

The small piece of your pencil sharpener razor that you broke off sat in your palm as you watched the droplets come to the surface.

You couldn’t help it, the knives just didn’t give you the right burn.

Your brain had screamed at you that this would make you feel better, but yet. You didn’t.

And you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

A knock on the door pulls you out of your world-crushing despair and you panic

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay in there?”

“Yeah Leon! Why?”

“Thought I heard you crying”

“No!”

“Ok”

You sigh in relief when you hear him walking away, that was close. Far too close for your liking.

So as much as everything in you screamed to keep tearing your flesh open, you stopped and cleaned up.

When you walk out Leon is sitting on the bed, looking at you.

His face is covered painfully in concern.

You don’t want him to know, you can’t have him know.

Your weak, so weak.

Leon has seen the worst of the world and yet here you are, breaking slowly for a reason you don’t know.

“What’s really going on?”

“Nothing Leon”

He gets up and walks over to you, your heartbeat speeds up in fear.

Your not scared of Leon, of course not.

Your afraid, no. Terrified of what would happen when he founds out.

“Please, I’m worried about you”

“It’s nothing.” you feel yourself grow annoyed at his concern, but your brain tells you it’s not concern.

It’s pity, he’s looking down on you

“Yes It is-”

You cut him off sharply

“It’s nothing Leon, just drop it already” You snap

And it only fuels your despair.

Here you are snapping at Leon just for caring.

But then your brain corrects you.

You're not doing a single thing wrong.

You're simply snapping at his superiority.

“Ok, fine. I’ll drop it”

You feel your body, your muscles, and your mind, loosen in relief.

You and Leon walk out to the living room

“Do you want to watch a movie”

“Sure.”

You sit down as he puts on the movie.

He pulls you close, sitting you on his lap and resting his head on your shoulder.

You try to hold it back, you try to stop the dam from breaking, but it’s so hard, his warmth, his love, it’s too much.

And you can’t stop it.

You snap. You break.

You sob.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” His voice is laced with concern, fearing that he might have hurt you even with just a simple touch.

You can’t find words.

You don’t deserve him.

You don’t deserve anything.

The air in your lungs is definitely something you don’t deserve.

You collapse into his chest as you wail.

You don’t want him to know, He can’t know.

But at the same time, you want to scream and give your heart and brain to him to see everything wrong with you.

You shake your head violently and Leon wraps his arms around you.

You can’t tell him, He shouldn’t know.

He’d leave, he’d leave you when he saw the disgusting threads that were carved into your skin.

He cups your face gently and looks into your eyes.

“Please sweetheart, I’m worried about you. What’s wrong?” His voice is shaky and his icy blue eyes are teared up.

It only makes you sob harder, makes your brain convince you to be angrier.

You push away from him and begin to run.

You can’t stand his judgment.

His condescendence.

But he grabs you.

“I’m not letting this go on any longer. What’s wrong!?”

He’s not angry, he’s just concerned for your well-being.

Something is very wrong with you and he’s worried.

“I don’t need your pity!” you scream and look at him

You’re angry, your brain tells you. But Leon sees through it.

Your glare is not angry but sorrow-filled.

“I’m not pitying you, I’m concerned!”

You pound and push against his chest.

You want to hide and curl into yourself but his arms around you won’t allow you to do so.

He holds you there, against him till you can’t bring yourself to struggle for freedom anymore and sob against him.

He’s crying as well now, he’s worried about you.

You’re so important to him and he’s so scared.

He’s scared that he’s losing you and he decides to voice it.

“Please just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t lose you”

“I-I can’t”

“Why not?” he begs desperately.

“The words- I can’t find the words” you whisper shakily

He puts his hand gently under your chin and lifts your head.

“No matter what, I love you. I won’t be angry, I will only ever be concerned”

Your mind is clearer now, finally understanding that he’s genuinely concerned and not looking down on you.

But the words still cut your throat up when you try to speak them.

“I can’t”

His expression softens.

“Why?”

“It hurts to say…” You trail off before looking away

“I’m scared. I’m Terrified. I don’t want you to leave”

He makes you look at him again “I won’t, I promise”

You inhale before attempting to speak

“I’ve been-” You choke on the words.

Your mind won’t let you tell him, despite his promise. You're still terrified.

Terrified of being alone.

Your mind won’t let you speak.

So reluctantly you grab his hand.

Your mind stops you, You can’t show him.

He can’t know.

“In the bathroom under my deodorant bottle” You speak

Your mind wasn’t prepared for that, it couldn’t stop you this time.

Leon gets up hesitantly and walks away, In the back of his mind, that nagging voice, he knows what he’ll find.

And he does.

Your brain is screaming

‘How!? How could you tell him!?’ ‘He’ll be gone in an hour now’

You wail and hit yourself in the head.

“Shut up! Shut up!” You scream

You find yourself unable to hit yourself further when Leon gently grabs your wrists.

He pulls you into an embrace and you scream as your body feels like it’s about to shatter.

“I’ve got you”

After an hour, an hour of wailing, screaming, and despair. You finally begin to calm down and fall limp in his arms.

“We’ll get through this together, I won’t leave you alone” He whispers as he picks you up.

He walks to the bedroom before he gently places you on the bed.

He lays next to you and pulls you close to him.

“Tomorrow morning we’ll look for some help, do you want that?”

You shrug, your brain is still in denial and telling you that you don’t need it and you’re too tired to really think about it.

“We can talk about it tomorrow” he whispers as he places a kiss on your forehead

“I love you, sweetheart, I love you more than anything” he cuddles into you further, holding you as close as possible.

“I love you too Leon” You whisper before your body finally rests from exhaustion.

#resident evil x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil comfort #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy comfort #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy fluff #tw self h4rm #tw sh

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “not-so-random suggestive and non-suggestive” prompts 

“How was your sleep?” “Mm.. It was good. Better.” “Better how?” “Better because you’re here.” (THE WAY I GOT SO FLUSTERED WTF)

“That’s my girl/boy,” Character B murmurs in a hushed voice, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair while Character A rests their head on their chest, trying to catch their breath. (THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT INTERNALLY, THE AUDACITY HE AUDACITIED??? WHAT THE FUCK??? EXCUSEEEE MEEEEEE??? BTW, SIR, HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS IN THE MORNING-)

“Fuck, you turn me on so much with the noises you make,” Character B groans, thrusting their hips up into Character A’s and Character A whimpering softly at that. (Okay so I added the fuck at the start because it’s hotter this way bUTTTT WKGKSKFS PLSSSSS I JUST- OH MY GOD, I think I just realised that dialogue to me is SO IMPORTANT LMFAOOO)

“There are two hot things in this room right now: you, and the temperature.” (LET ME BREATHE, DAMNNNN) 

“Mmm, I’m gonna hog the bed so you can’t get on,” Character A murmurs, laying sprawled out on the bed. “That’s fine, I can just lay on you,” Character B says, making their way to the bed. “…Are you calling me a bed?” Character A questions as Character B gets on top of them, careful not to crush them under their weight. “Yeah, you're my bed,” Character B murmurs, snuggling close to Character A. (FUCKCKKCKXKDKKSKGKAKD HE’S JUST OUT HERE FLIRTING TO THE MAX WITH ME AND LEAVING ME SPEECHLESS TF)

“I told you my bed’s cozy,” Character B says, chuckling as they make their way over to Character A, who’s snuggled up under the covers. They pull the cover back and climb into the bed next to Character A, wrapping their arms around them. “And now it’s even cozier,” Character B murmurs into Character A’s neck. “Because you’re here?” Character A questions playfully. “Yeah,” Character B answers.

A laughter filled tickling play fight session somehow turning into them making out, turning into Character A straddling Character B, head thrown back in pleasure as they grind their hips against Character B’s while Character B holds onto their hips, thrusts matching the momentum of Character A’s movements.  

Spending way too much time tickling each other, peals of laughter coming from them both as they both try to attack each other’s sensitive spots. (His laughter is so cute AND I REALLY MISS HIM PLS WJDSK)

Morning cuddles and kisses as sunlight spills into the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good once we get there, yeah?” (MY HONEST REACTION WAS LITERALLY “???” I JUST?? WHAT?? SINCE WHEN WAS HE- AND HIM SWEARING? HOT HOT HOT HOT WKGKAKS)

Character A taking Character B’s hand into theirs while they’re driving. “You can drive with one hand, right?” they ask with a little grin, and Character B chuckles and nods. “Of course I can.” (HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND IS SO HOT BYE)

Character B guiding the speed of Character A’s hips as Character A grinds against them. (can he PLEASE manhandle me-)

“Okay, I’ll let you tickle me wherever you want if you give me one kiss.” (He lied a few times AHAHA, dodged my attacks instead after I gave him his kisses bruhhh) 

Character B lending their clothes to Character A since Character A’s staying the night. (The way I smelled like him AHHHH)

The soft “yeah?” Character B would mutter in response when they’re messing around with Character A and noises would fall from Character A’s mouth, involuntarily.

Stopping their play fight every now and again to kiss each other. 

Character B flirting with Character A and Character A not knowing how to respond other than half groaning and half laughing and calling them insufferable (affectionately). (Like I said, I’m romantically constipated-) 

Character B laughing every time Character A calls them annoying and insufferable whenever they flirt with them. 

Character A leaning in to kiss Character B… And then using that opportunity to tickle them when Character B’s guards are down. 

Them just laughing with each other at the dumbest shit until they’re out of breath; finding comfort and joy in each other’s company. 

Character A teasing Character B with how ticklish they are on certain spots. 

Character B tugging at the hem of Character A’s top, wanting to take it off, but Character A shakes their head and Character B immediately respects that by backing off a bit. (I’m including this because I don’t think people understand that any signs of no means no. Some people need to take notes for real)

“So… Are you going to stay over tonight?” “…Mm, maybe next time.” “You always say next time, though.” (EWLKNFWELN He really wanted me to stay, and I clearly folded so um pwnfewklnf) 

“I’m sorry if I’m like… Slow with all of this? I’m not experienced with any of this, and I don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t think I’m ready for… You know.” “And that’s fine. Like I said, we’ll take it slow; we’ve got all the time in the world to get comfortable with each other, hm?” (WHEN I SAY I WAS GOING WEKJFNEWJKNEWFLN WHEN HE REASSURED ME, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AHHH)

Character B climbing back into bed after taking their morning shower to get more cuddles in with Character A before they have to go to work.

“You can just change in here if you want.” (WO4HKLWFN THIS FUCKING MAN LMFAOOO, the way I didn’t listen and went to the bathroom to change because I’m still feeling too embarrassed to change in front of him even though he’s kind of seen me topless before)

Hugging each other a little tighter, and Character A mumbling, “God, I really don’t want to leave” before they part ways.

“The way you keep running around in my mind everyday… How dare you?” Character A mumbles. “Well, is there a problem with that?” Character B questions with a chuckle. (I’m bold for this one, praise me LKNEFKLNWG)

The constant check ins from Character B, to make sure Character A’s all good and well. (every prompt list has this because it’s something I’ll always fucking harp on about lmao)

Character B grasping Character A’s wrists so they’d stop attacking their ticklish spots, pulling them in for a kiss instead. (He did this SO MANY TIMES AND FAILED SO MANY TIMES AHAHA, I’m a sneaky menace) 

Character A pulling the Spiderman kiss on Character B while Character B’s lying down. (I WANNA KISS HIM MORE FUCKSLKFNES’F)

Character A waking up in Character B’s clothes and in their bed, hair all mussed up and sporting a faint mark on their neck. (I think I uh… I think I like having marks on my neck?? Made by him, specifically, IDK wpeofnew;nf)

Get home safe! Love you lots and lots, Character B texts Character A. (THE WAY I SMILED WHEN I SAW HIS TEXT WHILE HEADING TO THE STATION AHAHA, it wasn’t even ten minutes since we parted and he sent me this and I was fangirling about it to my friends AHAHA) 

“Aren’t you going to get up now? You gotta get to work,” Character A says, poking Character B’s side. “Mmm, five more minutes,” Character B murmurs, pulling Character A closer to them. (HE’S SO CLINGY AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHDFOEKNF)

Character A realising they might actually be falling in love, slowly but surely, with Character B. (YEAH SO THIS IS A REVELATION AND A HALF AND IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT IT) 

#long post #based on personal experience 😮‍💨 #so sorry for all of the commentary HAHAH #and yes before you say anything i’m living the fanfic life for you all LESNFNLK #cat guy chronicles #writing prompts #prompts #dialogue prompts #writing scenarios #otp prompts #suggestive prompts #smut prompts #fluff prompts #non-suggestive prompts