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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

Grays

Frankie Morales x f!reader

{ Grays Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Grays Part II }

Rating: M

Summary: Frankie wants you to cover up his grays. You want to knock some sense into his salt-and-pepper head.

Warnings: Insecure Frankie in need of self-love comes with his own warning, Reader is a hairstylist and has a related nickname, no physical descriptions other than that Reader has hair that can be dyed, not-quite-friends to *respectfully looking* dynamics, mentions of hair, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendos, lots of teasing and banter.

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: The origin story is here if you missed it. This is dedicated to my Frankie soul sister LJ @prolix-yuy who encouraged me to write this many months ago ❤️ As always, I’m an anxious mess writing for a new-to-me Pedro boy, so please be gentle with me (cos it's my birthday week) 🥺

I have a part 2 (with smut) in mind. I love where this leaves off, but who am I kidding. I probably won’t be able to help myself 😂

The bell on the door chimes with a sweet tinkle, cutting through the low, insistent purr of the hair clipper buzzing in your grasp. You don’t look up as you spy broad shoulders and a battered Standard Heating Oil cap crossing the threshold out of the corner of your eye.

‘Are you lost, Morales?’ you drawl indifferently, focused on the task at hand. ‘I have an appointment with Pope today, not you.’

‘He booked it under his name. Thought you’d take it as a prank if I called in myself.’

You look up to meet his gaze reflected in the mirror sitting in front of Greg, your current customer. ‘I wonder why he’d think that.’

Frankie shrugs, leaning against the reception counter with his arms crossed. ‘Beats me.’

You snort. ‘Really? You’ve insisted loudly and repeatedly for as long as I’ve known you that you don’t see the point of going to a hairstylist when you can have Pope cut your hair with kitchen scissors in his bathtub.’

‘C’mon, Shiv.’

‘Oh, he knows my name,’ you gasp sarcastically. You turn to Greg, who’s clearly amused by this exchange, and loop him in. ‘He usually just grunts at me.’

At this point, Ashton - your apprentice and all-round salon maverick - makes an appearance. Clearly having caught the tail-end of your conversation with Frankie, he glances between the two of you with an arched eyebrow. ‘Are we back to chasing customers away, boss?’

‘Sit his ass down but he doesn’t get a free drink,’ you instruct. ‘I’ll get to him when I get to him.’

Ashton goes ahead and ignores your orders point blank, per usual. After hanging up Frankie’s jacket and settling him at the station furthest away from you in the far corner of the salon, you see him sneakily give him a coffee. He can never resist the handsome ones.

You take your sweet time with Greg, cleaning up his sideburns, even though you’re basically done with him - just to tick off your waiting customer.

Not that it works, and you know it won’t. He just sits there, his wide frame filling up the chair, still as a rock. The dog-eared, months-old magazines strategically placed on the table for idle reading lie untouched. That’s Francisco Morales for you.

You’ve been orbiting each other since sixth grade, as all kids in your close-knit neighbourhood do. In fact, most of your customers went to your school.

You don’t even remember how it started - probably at a sleepover - you discovered one day that you’re handy with box hair dye. By freshman year, you were colouring your fellow classmates’ hair in the girls’ toilets after school, earning enough pocket money to keep your cabinet at home fully-stocked with new hair products on rotation.

Your ever-changing hair colour got you into trouble with the headmaster more times than you can count, who nicknamed you Shape Shifter. Your friends abbreviated it to Shifter, then over the years, whittled it down to Shiv, and it stuck.

After being gifted a set of styling scissors for Christmas one year, you started hanging out at the neighbourhood salon, hustling for an apprenticeship. You practised what you observed on your fellow students, giving out haircuts on the bleachers on non-game days for a couple of dollars (the fee waived if something went disastrously wrong).

That’s how you first met Benny - his then cheerleader girlfriend took him in for a haircut when it got too long for her liking. When you eventually opened your own salon years later, he was your first paying customer, having come home after being honourably discharged from the army.

During the early days, when you struggled to fill your appointments and he couldn’t win a fight to save his life, you made a pact. You would do his hair at a heavy discount for his posters and promotions, and in return, he would let you use his photos for the salon’s marketing.

And it worked. Well, not that you had anything to do with him turning his fortunes around on the MMA circuit, but he had everything to do with getting customers through your door. It only got busier when Santi joined the ranks a couple of years later, and even though Will only shows up when his hair gets really unruly, they both sit in front of your camera with no complaint in return for mate’s rates.

Having these guys on your salon’s social media keeps both the gents and the ladies booking up your appointments.

Frankie Morales, though, is a different animal.

When you finally appear over his left shoulder, his coffee is all gone and he meets your eyes in the mirror nonchalantly. He’s leaning his whole weight on his right elbow on the armest, his left arm outstretched and blunt nails tapping on the table, the only hint of impatience he’s giving away.

He’s good at that - he’s the laid-back one out of the boys, the one who hangs back and observes with arms crossed, but quick to crack a grin and throw in a wicked barb when the occasion calls for it. Nothing ever seems to faze him, and probably nothing does - you hear that makes a good pilot, and from what Pope lets on, he’s a damn good one.

It also makes for highly effective bait for the ladies. He’s a popular fixture on the local bar scene - let’s face it, all of the boys are. You’ve seen him in action more than once when Benny or Pope invites you along on a night out, more often than not without Will since he had a baby girl with his high school sweetheart last year. Frankie’s brooding, quiet, beer-sipping act often works better than Benny’s over-the-top flirting or Pope’s Casanova bit.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Hands on your hips, you goad him, ‘Alright Morales, how do I know you’ll pay up, you cheap bastard?’

‘Pope says to put it on his tab.’

‘Music to my ears.’ You tap him on the shoulder. ‘Sit up and off with the cap.’

With a grumble, Frankie lifts the cap up by the beak, ducking his head as he does so. He tosses it onto the table offhandedly and shifts in his seat, but you’re not fooled by his unconvincing air of indifference. From the way he plasters his palms to the top of his denim-clad thighs, as if to stop them from fidgeting, you know he’s feeling vulnerable.

You can’t say you’ve ever seen Frankie without his headgear - now that you think about it, he’s been wearing it since high school. Heck, he might have gone through several incarnations of that blasted hat in the years in between. You’ve caught glimpses when he lifts it up to fix his hair, but otherwise, all you see is what peeks out from underneath, the longer wisps that coil around his ears and the curls at the back.

As it turns out, there’s really nothing to hide - sure, the cut is blunt and his hair lacks shine, but both can be easily fixed. You step into his space and comb through his locks, starting at the base of his skull and working your way up the sides.

The contact startles him - he practically jumps out of his skin, and you don’t miss the way the veins on the back of his hands pop and he digs his nails into his legs.

'Easy, boy,' you soothe with a teasing undertone, earning yourself a glower from the pilot. As much as you enjoy needling him, you do want your customers to be comfortable. So you let slip a deliberate but genuinely appreciative hum as the dark tendrils, subtly tinged with grays, part softly at your prying fingertips. ‘Wow, your curls are really thick.'

He looks up, an unsure frown on his brow. ‘Oh. Is that bad?’

‘No, Morales, it’s definitely a compliment,’ you tell him encouragingly - your bark has always been worse than your bite. ‘What do you use to wash your hair? It’s a bit dry.’

He shrugs. ‘Shampoo.’ At your insistent stare, he snaps, ‘What?’

‘Don’t lie to me, Morales,’ you warn him in a stern voice.

He huffs and gives in. ‘Fine. It’s a 2-in-1 body wash. I get it at the gas station, happy?’

You shoot him a smug grin as he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, you’re using proper shampoo from now on, and conditioner.’ He opens his mouth, a complaint on the tip of his tongue, when you hold a finger up at him. ‘Don’t argue with me, mister. I’ll throw in a couple of bottles on the house to get you started.’

‘Fine,’ he concedes. Unfailingly polite even when grumpy, he adds, ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Your trusty swivelling stool screeches in protest when you drag it over on its wheels, before you take a seat and address the elephant in the room. ‘So - I’m guessing you’re here because of the wedding.’

You get a grunt in response. Scratching a particularly scrappy patch of his beard that has turned prematurely silver, he says, ‘My ma says I should cover up my old man grays for it.’

You snort, shaking your head. ‘Ha! And you tell your mother I say - hell no, ma’am! I will do no such thing.’

Frankie blinks at your unexpectedly adamant response. ‘What?’

‘I said, hell no,’ you repeat. Turning his head to the side with two fingers on his stubbled cheek, you comb his locks upwards to study the way the grays blend in softly with the umber, matching the ashen flecks in his beard. He doesn't start as badly at your touch this time, but there’s a telltale tick in his jaw, and you can almost hear the tension that thrums just below his skin where a late summer tan still lingers.

‘See how your grays are mainly coming out on the underside?’ you point out. ‘I like the way they just peek through the brown, it gives more depth to your curls. Natural highlights, if you will.’

He looks unconvinced and swipes at a smattering of silver with dismissive fingers. ‘Dunno. Thought the grays make me look old.’

You chuckle. ‘You’re no spring chicken anymore, Morales, and I mean it in a good way. Grays are natural - they will look even better when you start using actual shampoo and conditioner. Trust me, the salt and pepper works on you. I’m not dyeing your grays, and that’s that.’

For the first time today, Frankie turns his head and looks directly into your eyes. ‘My mother’s coming back to town for the wedding, you know. And she remembers where you live.’

You laugh. ‘Go ahead and send her my way, you know I’m not scared of her.’

He scoffs at your big talk. ‘You should be.’

Your relationship with the Morales matriarch is complicated, to say the least. She was always hard on you when you were a kid, thinking you were too wild and undisciplined. Now that you’re grown, you’re still torn between your admiration for her as a single mother who raised a good man, and the woman who never tires of dishing out criticism, warranted or not.

You give him a reassuring pat on the back, solid and warm under your touch. ‘Leave your mother to me, Morales. The grays stay, and I’ll make sure you steal the show at the party.’

‘Your funeral,’ he quips.

‘You just worry about getting yourself to the wedding,’ you retort, cracking your knuckles. ‘Now, are you ready for some pampering?’

Frankie rolls his eyes, but you see the corner of his mouth tick up in a vaguely upward direction - and you take it as a win.

‘Relax, Morales.’

‘I am relaxed,’ he insists through gritted teeth.

‘You’re about as relaxed as a cow on the butcher’s block. Unclench.’

For someone as economical with words as he is, his body certainly says a lot. Every single part of him seems hellbent on making his discomfort known. He breathes a frustrated exhale through his nose, brow deeply furrowed, his glare burning holes into the ceiling.

The leather seat of the backwash barely contains his tall build, his t-shirt stretched to the seams across his chest as he leans back into the basin. He’s bouncing his left leg irritably, the tight denim straining against his lap.

You try - valiantly - not to gape too obviously at the conspicuous bulge nestled snugly between his thighs under his belt buckle. But you can’t avert your eyes from something of that size. It’s against the laws of physics. Or something.

Even from where you’re standing, at the top of the basin peering down the slope of his body, its heft is clearly testing the structural integrity of the zipper of his jeans. Imagine the view from the other side -

Clearing your throat, you bodily press down on Frankie’s shoulders which are coiled up like the hood of an angry python, forcing them to loosen up. He jerks as if he’s a copper wire and you’re electricity. You tease, ‘So sensitive. You act like you’ve never felt a woman’s touch before, Morales.’

‘You know that’s not true,’ he growls at you, the prominent vein in his neck starting to pulse in frustration.

‘No, you’re right - I do know,’ you smirk, dragging out your syllables.

Your tone has him frowning at you, upside down. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I mean - I know,’ you repeat with a conspiratorial wink.

He narrows his eyes at you. ‘What do you know, Shiv?’

You wriggle his eyebrows at him suggestively, enjoying yourself far too much. ‘I own a salon, Morales. I hear things from the ladies about town.’

One large palm reaches up to shield his face in embarrassment, a pained groan escaping between the gaps of his fingers. ‘For fuck’s sake - kill me now.’

You laugh, wrestling his hand from his face to with an impish grin. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things so far - Frankie big boy Morales.’

He blushes so hard that his ears and neck go a livid red, and for a minute, you’re actually worried that he’d pass out from not enough blood reaching his heart. Not keen on the prospect of having to explain to the emergency services that you teased the poor man into an aneurysm, you turn on the water and cut short your little chinwag with a good-natured chuckle.

His hands are still tightly clamped around the armrest when you carefully run the shower head along his hairline and behind his ears, soaking his curls. His biceps flex from the tight grip and the lean muscles strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt.

At least he closes his eyes when you start with the shampoo. The velvety lather froths as you patiently wash his hair, which clings to his wet curls like vanilla frosting. The deep crease between his brows eases with each gentle swipe into his locks, and the invisible force pulling his lips downwards slackens. By the time you rinse out the bubbles, you don’t miss the way the tension in his body unwittingly goes with it down the drain.

When your nails slide slickly into his hair with the conditioner, his stubborn body finally, slowly unfurls. His head tips back of its own accord, baring the column of his strong neck as he leans inadvertently into your touch. Colour returns to his knuckles when he releases his death grip on the backwash.

You smile to yourself, scraping your fingertips along his scalp in a firm massage, watching his chest rise and fall as he teeters on the brink of consciousness.

As your thumbs trace a confident path down the back of his skull, they appear to find a particularly sensitive spot near the base of his neck, and it's as if a switch is flipped. You witness the exact moment he breaks - his back arches off the leather seat, his obstinate lips part with a strangled half-sigh catching in his throat as he yields his full weight into the palm of your hands.

If you're not careful, you could get used to this.

‘Still with me, Morales?’ you tease quietly.

He garbles incoherently, and you grin.

Frankie practically molds into the chair like warm wax when you shepherd him back to the styling station. You’re so chuffed with yourself that you don’t even feel the need to gloat at the way his eyes are glazed over and how his head lolls into the soft pressure when you run a fluffy towel through his hair. The man recoiling at the mere brush of your fingers a distant memory.

You run an assessing eye over him, brushing out his locks to gauge your game plan. ‘I like this length on you, so I’ll just trim the split ends and tidy up your sideburns. You’ll benefit from some layering too - it’s a bit heavy on top right now.’

From the way he blinks owlishly at you, you know he doesn’t catch a single word. He shrugs and says matter-of-factly. ‘You can’t do worse than Pope.’

The salon is quiet this afternoon, as it tends to be on Wednesdays. You let him enjoy the peace for a little bit and tap your foot to Ashton’s playlist as your styling scissors move over his curls in metallic snips.

‘Tip your head forward for me,’ you instruct, sliding around the back of his head on your wheels as you probe, ‘So - how are you feeling about the wedding?’

The fabric of his t-shirt bunches over his shoulders as they quirk noncommittally.

‘It’s just a few days away.’

He makes an indifferent noise. But you’re not so easily dissuaded from conversation, and he knows it.

‘Can’t be easy - watching your ex get married.’

Frankie pins you with a long-suffering stare in the mirror. ‘We broke up a year ago.’

Getting onto your feet, you ruffle your fingers through the crown of his curls. ‘Yeah, but you dated for years. She sure moved on quick.’

He huffs a sardonic laugh. ‘Thanks, Shiv.’

Swapping out the styling scissors for blending shears, you argue, ‘What? It’s a legitimate observation. I’m just making conversation here.’

‘Or we could just sit here quietly.’

Ha. As if you ever listen to him. You press on, ‘Why did she invite you anyway?’

Frankie’s sigh sounds a lot like surrender as he humours you. ‘It’s a damned if she does, damned if she doesn’t kind of situation, I guess. The whole town’s invited.’

‘You sure she isn’t trying to flaunt it in your face or something?’

‘Flaunting implies I still care. I don’t.’

You give him a juvenile nudge nudge, wink wink. ‘Well, on the bright side, you’ll definitely get laid, being the heartbroken ex and all. Chicks love that shit.’

He dispatches a side-long stare in your direction. ‘I’m not heartbroken, and that’s not why I’m going. And you know none of this is any of your business, right?’

‘You’re no fun,’ you pout.

He quips, ‘As a professional hairstylist, you really should be better at making polite conversation.’

You snort. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea to call me rude when I have scissors in my hands?’

Frankie watches you work in the comfortable lull that’s settled between you, gliding the blades along strands of his curls pulled taut, before running a fine-toothed comb through to brush out the loose tufts. Soft coils land on the floor around his chair as you work your way methodically through his layers.

‘Are you going to the wedding?’ he asks eventually.

You shrug. ‘Maybe, depends on my schedule. I gotta say, I’m kind of curious to see how tacky it will be.’

At his eyebrow sternly cocked, you argue, ‘I know she’s your ex and all, but she’s always been a bit tacky. I mean, that remodel of your house was just tragic.’

Frankie frowns. ‘How do you know all this? You’ve never been to my house.’

You wink. ‘Benny tells me everything when I do his hair.’

He pinches the bridge of his nose. ‘Of course. Benjamin fucking Miller.’

You give him a pat on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m on your side, if it helps.’

‘I don’t need you on my side.’

You flash him an insufferable grin. ‘Too bad, Francisco. I am and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

The hairdryer drowns out any further conversation, and Frankie quietly studies you as you cord your fingers through his hair, ruffling it as it dries.

It’s still a bit damp when you switch off the hairdryer and reach up to pull a couple of jars from the shelf above. ‘On the day of the wedding, I want you to wash your hair just before you style it. You have a hairdryer at home, right?’

He throws you a pointed look. ‘I’m not a heathen.’

You grin. ‘Down boy, just checking. Now, you’ll dry your hair until it’s still a bit wet, like so.’ Presenting the styling mousse to him, you say, ‘Then go on and grab some product - you only need a dollop.’

He dips his index finger into the pot, scooping up a generous blob. Your attention is unexpectedly piqued at the sight of his hands.

Have they always been so big?

Realising he’s staring at you in wait, you shake yourself out of it. ‘Ok, rub the mousse onto your fingertips and run them all over your hair, combing from root to end.’

Frankie does as he’s told, face set to a serious scowl as he impeccably goes over each section of his locks, staring into the mirror to make sure he gets every strand. For the first time, you see the pilot in him up close, and you wonder if he’s this thorough about other things, like -

Laundry, your mind interrupts as it careens on the brink of the metaphorical gutter. Get your shit together, Shiv.

‘Good,’ you smile when he’s done, hoping he doesn't see the strain in it. ‘Now, I want you to rake your fingers through the roots when you dry your hair all the way.’ In demonstration, your nails burrow into the base of his thick hair, then you wriggle your fingers upwards towards the ends. ‘It will give you lots of volume and really show off this cut.’

Passing him the hairdryer, you watch him critically in the mirror. He imitates your movements, a bit clumsily and far too cautiously. Leaning down to his ear so he can hear you over the whir, you instruct him, ‘Don’t be gentle, Francisco. C’mon, harder, deeper - don’t hold back.’

He chokes and pins you with a wide-eyed stare in the mirror that glances right off your oblivious self. Along with your words, nothing about this exchange would register in your head in any other way until much, much later tonight, when you replay the conversation in your head in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

It may or may not have you squealing into your pillow in latent embarrassment - and something else.

But for now, you’re happy with the way his hair has set, and you gesture for him to switch off the hairdryer. Turning his chair towards you and away from the mirror, you scan your eyes over him and make small adjustments - tucking a couple of strands behind his ear here, a couple of final snips there.

As a final touch, you bury your fingers into his locks, dragging your fingertips through the roots to impart a final tousle so that the curls are loose and soft. You preen at the way he sways into your contact, all shyness gone, his hooded eyes half-closed - before he seems to catch himself and sits up with a self-conscious ahem.

Grabbing a small bottle from the shelf, you say, ‘Last thing - your beard is a bit dry as well. This oil will keep it nice and moisturised, just two or three drops after you wash up in the morning will do.’

Tipping his face up by the crook of your finger and opening up his neck to you, you smooth the ointment along both sides of his jaw, rubbing circles into his neatly trimmed whiskers and all the way up his sideburns. Sliding downwards, your hands seek out the closely shaved stubble tucked beneath his chin. Then, by sheer momentum, your palms continue down his throat in a slow, sticky descent, until the pads of your thumbs slot into the hollow between his collarbones, your fingers resting at the base of his neck where you feel his pulse rabbiting underneath.

The air thickens and shifts between you. When he swallows, you feel the ripple of the moment against your fingertips.

His eyes are on you, and suddenly he’s too close, his skin too hot under your hands. To your horror, something akin to shyness rears its head and you almost stumble backwards to put a safe distance between you.

Scrubbing the oily residue from your hands on a towel, you break the moment with a wink and a steadier smile than you actually feel. ‘You look good, Morales. Ready to take a look?’

‘As if you would take no for an answer,’ he mumbles under his breath. Fondness might be too strong of a word - but you don't think you're imagining the faint trace of amusement in his voice.

With a dramatic ta-da, you spin his chair around with a flourish.

Frankie Morales is obviously not a vain man - he most likely owns five pairs of jeans that he’s worn on rotation for the past fifteen years, his t-shirts are washed ragged, and his trusty leather boots have seen better days. He probably doesn’t use a mirror other than for purely utilitarian purposes, like checking if there’s something stuck in his teeth from his last meal.

But right now, by the way he’s holding his breath as he meets his own eyes in the reflection, you can tell that he’s really looking at himself for the first time in a long while.

You pretend to busy yourself with tidying up the styling station as you discreetly sneak glances at him, feeling strangely bashful for intruding in this moment. When he remembers to breathe again, he tilts his head left then to the right, and back again, even swivelling his chair from side to side so he can peer round the back.

You’ve parted his waves to the side, the lighter cut allowing his curls to carry their natural shape. The healthy sheen, courtesy of the mousse, tempers his grays to a softer, burnt silver that catches the light fetchingly as he moves. Reaching up, Frankie pushes back a stray curl that falls over his eyes, and his back straightens in a quiet show of confidence.

Running a salon is hard work and often thankless. But on days like this? You know you’re meant to do this.

A dramatic gasp draws both of your attention. Ashton is clutching at his chest, backed up against the neighbouring styling station, gaping at Frankie. ‘Mister - you look good enough to devour. Look at that salt and pepper, I’m living for the grays. Doing the Lord’s work, Shiv!’

You laugh as Frankie flushes, scratching an invisible itch on his forehead. You brush the loose hairs off his shoulders with a towel and give him a nudge. ‘See? I’m not the only one who thinks you look good with the grays. You better stock up on the condoms, Morales, the ladies will be all over you at the party.’

He shakes his head self-deprecatingly as he stands up, rubbing his palms on his jeans, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. ‘I doubt it, but - thanks. I appreciate this, Shiv.’

He shrugs on his well-loved burnt yellow jacket, the one with the sleeves perpetually folded up above his wrists and grabs his cap. You hold out a paper bag with the free shampoo and conditioner you promised him, throwing in a jar of hair mousse for good measure. ‘You’re welcome, and you better not put your hat on again this afternoon after all that hard work.’

His fingers brush yours when he takes the bag from you, then, as if it’s the logical next thing to do, he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your right cheek, his stubble coarse against your skin - and you know without looking it’s the gray patch in his beard that brushes against your jaw as he draws back. You fumble, feeling heat prickle the back of your neck and blooming in your rib cage.

He flashes you the most self-assured smile you’ve seen on him this afternoon, which has you biting your bottom lip. ‘I won’t. Maybe see you at the wedding, Shiv.’

It takes you five full seconds to regain motor functions. By the time you unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, Frankie’s already out of the door with a spring in his step.

In companionable silence, you and Ashton watch the pilot strut - because that’s what he’s doing, he’s strutting with a confidence that becomes him - across the road through the glass front of the salon.

‘What a dish,’ Ashton sighs dreamily, flopping into a chair as if his limbs have given out. ‘I hope he comes back soon.’

You smile. A girl could always hope.

Notes: It's the first time I'm using a nickname for a Reader, but I have a real soft spot for Shiv, and I think she deserves one. I'm not sure where the fandom stands on this, does it disqualify the fic as a reader insert? If anyone has an issue with this, please let me know! For me, Shiv has no physical descriptions so to me she's still a reader insert.

I don't know if anyone expected this kind of dynamics between these two, but it's been so much fun to write with a bit of antagonism in the mix. I hope you enjoyed this, reblogs and comments are so, so appreciated as always. Thank you for reading ❤️

#frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfic #frankie friday #queue

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mostly-mundane-atla · 10 months

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Things Inupiaq culture doesn't traditionally have:

Kings/royalty (requiring tribute from the people you lead is seen as tyranical and tyrants are killed when possible)

A cash economy (dentallium shells were valued by many other cultures and sometimes were used as money in international trade, but not among fellow Inupiat)

Agriculture (we are traditionally a hunter-gatherer people seasonally following the herds, fish, and ripening greens and berries)

Corporal punishment (you aren't even supposed to yell at people or even scold children)

Slavery (you could argue this one since women were sometimes captured and taken as wives; but this is typically regarded as an ancient and morally questionable practice. The Inupiat didn't believe in owning people or their labor, only at best associating through marriage, blood relation, or wife-exchange)

Primogeniture as a hard-fast rule (Inupiat culture was traditionally patriarchal so a son may inherit his father's status as a family patriarch if he is already a father at this time, but material inheritence was not guaranteed to work that way)

A written language (historians were assigned to memorize records, family trees, and the like)

Human or animal sacrifices (would be considered cruel and wasteful)

Formal vs informal language (socio-economic class is mutable and does not affect language)

Gendered pronouns (our language uses pronouns to indicate tone of a sentence the way many languages use pronunciation, as well as relationship between subject and object in complex sentences and in all cases whether the subject is singular, dual, or plural and if the sentence is in first, second, or third person. An absolute fuckton of pronouns and none of them are gendered)

Raw meat taboo (except in the case of pregnancy; the arctic climate means the weather was not too far off from refrigerator or freezer temperatures, if not colder, and underground storage was often placed around frozen methane deposits known as permafrost)

Dog meat taboo (dogs were helpful as beasts of burden or sometimes hunting companions but when there's a famine you gotta eat what you can)

Many ceremonies taken for granted (for example, if a man and woman mutually agreed they were married, that was the only wedding required. We had big celebrations for survival, and women got incredible face tattoos for coming of age, but many lifestages were celebrated more low-key with little pomp and circumstance)

Shirts (you didn't wear anything underneath your atigi, and if it was too warm for it, you took it off. Yes, even women. Presbyterian missionaries thought we were godless sluts for our tits out ways)

Virginity marriage requirement (it was best if a woman hadn't had sex before but only because we lived in small communities and you have to keep track of bloodlines. Having sex didn't make girls unclean or impure and unwed mothers were taken care of by their families and weren't stigmatized)

Required monogomy (men could have multiple wives and women could have multiple husbands, wife exchange was a means of fostering allegiance, and the main problem with cheating is that it involved lying and prioritizing pleasure over duties like making sure your husband doesn't fall to his death while hunting. In stories about cheating and revenge, the cheater and retaliating jealous partner are both depicted as in the wrong)

There are more, but these i feel provide a pretty good basic idea of the culture. You can use these bits of info as Water Tribe worldbuilding inspo if you want, but i won't pester you into it. I just think my culture is neat and wanted to share ^-^

#eskimo on main #might talk about captured wives one of these days because that concept always facinated me

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tenjikyu · 4 months

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𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘥 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ gn!reader , reader is biologically related to izana , reader is 15 years old , reader has a family complex (wants to make the perfect family) kakucho is aged up to nineteen in this (i REFUSE to believe he’s fourteen, and he is NOT aged up for sexual reasons, only for peace of mind.)

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ SPOILERS FOR TOKYO REV - S3 - TENJUKU ARC

❤︎ at the ripe old age of 15, you had already become one of the most respected members of one of the most dangerous gangs around.

❤︎ not only were you insane with your fists, you were a master with using weapons such as bats and longer tools, effectively making them extensions of your own body. there’s only one person you have to thank for all of your insane talent and agility.

❤︎ your big brother, izana kurokawa.

❤︎ while izana is more agile and quick with kicks and hits, easily outdoing his brother manjiro sano, he utilised his knowledge and whacked it into your skull at a young age, intent on having you able to defend yourself should you need it.

❤︎ growing up in the orphanage wasn’t easy, but your big brother and his servant (who you deemed your 2nd big brother, much to the distaste of izana, but he got over it eventually) made it a smidge easier.

❤︎ eventually, a man by the name of shinichiro sano came into your lives, claiming to be your big brother. at this stage, izana was 8, kakucho was 9 and you were 5 years old.

❤︎ of course, izana instantly attached himself to shinichiro, seemingly getting the big brother he had always craved.

❤︎ you also liked shinichiro, you went on walks with the two constantly and he spoke to you about the two of yours half little sister, emma.

❤︎ this went on until izana was 14, when he found out that shinichiro had been lying this entire time. that’s the day that you lost a few of your screws.

❤︎ the betrayal you felt was not that of izana’s, but the pure heartbreak of seeing your brother loose the thing he craved in life so much. from that day forward, your 10 year old mind was made up.

❤︎ if you couldn’t have blood family, you would simply build your own.

❤︎ and when izana formed tenjuku, you seemed all of the members, old and new, out like a dog.

❤︎ you examined every delinquent around you, pondering how good of a brother they would make, big or small.

❤︎ the entirety of tenjuku knew to never question you. not when you came back with blood mixed in your hair, not when you came back smelling of tequila, not when you came back sobbing and begging for your big brother, knocking anybody else out who tried to console you.

❤︎ izana’s word was law and by extension yours was too. izana rarely left you alone and whenever you had to run an errand without him, if you didn’t have kakucho to follow you around then he would throw a huge fit, screaming about how you’re going away.

❤︎ you hated seeing your big brother in such a horrid state, and with issues of abandonment of your own, you also hated not being by his side. the both of you shared everything, and any moment spent apart felt like agony and fear.

❤︎ of course, izana did give you freedom, he’s not fully whack after all, his allowance of you leaving his side is very.. selective.

❤︎ the 4 most trusted with you are as followed:

❤︎ kakucho, your 2nd big brother and his most loyal follower. if anything where to happen to izana then you’d be left in kakucho’s care.

❤︎ 2nd is kokonoi. while he may be relatively new and was brought here by force, he can see the treasurers mind slowly fork into how he had wanted it, therefore making him loyal, not to mention the two of you are the same age and get along quite well.

❤︎ shared third and fourth place are the haitani brothers. they’re fellow siblings who share overprotective tendencies and also work side by side, so he trusts them enough if the previous two aren’t available. you also get along well enough with ran, and pretty well with rindou.

❤︎ when izana eventually forms a plan to kill emma sano, your originally believed-to-be little sister, it was your word that saved her life. you told izana that you didn’t want her to die, how you wanted to keep her for the family you were trying oh-so-hard to build for him. it only took a few words and some teary eyes before the plan was completely discarded without negotiations.

❤︎ izana could never bring you to tears, and today was not going to be the day he broke that promise to himself. kisaki was pissed at you, however he knew he couldn’t do a thing about it. and so, he kept quiet…

❤︎ until he found the perfect time to strike back.

❤︎ the battle of tenjuku vs toman was lead by manjiro sano, as he wasn’t mourning his sister. he was more concerned, however you assured izana that victory would still come to the both of you.

❤︎ you had izana, and izana had you.

❤︎ that’s all that mattered once izana finally met with mikey.

❤︎ the face off between the two brothers, manjiro sano and izana kurokawa was in full swing. instead of mourning and loss, manjiro had determination in his eyes. he vowed to himself that he would bring his two lost siblings back home with him.

❤︎ fighting commenced, arguments broke out, there was nothing but yelling and screaming.

❤︎ as the punches and kicks continued to fly, the two boys gave eachother the appearance of death. they were sore, bloody and you wanted nothing more than to support your big brother, however you stayed up high, doing as izana commanded.

❤︎ it was only when izana broke the ice to mikey, giving him an opening, that you finally had your presence known.

“IZANA DON’T DO IT” your screeches were held by the entire battlefield. you were dressed in a long black hoodie (yk the one senju wears? yeah one like that) and had your legs poking out of it, designed in mind of your safety and concealment.

you raced down towards the brothers, affectingly blocking the two off from eachother.

“big brother, let’s hear him out”. you whisper, afraid of what izana might consider this as. would he see you as a betrayal? would he disown you? would he throw a fit and strike you?

no, izana put his hands down. he walked over gently towards you, and held you in his arms.

he heard out mikey, listening to his speech on how despite their lack of blood, the fact is shinichiro decided to take him in and therefore are family.

❤︎ because of you, i firmly believe that izana would not be as batshit as he canonically is. i think his brotherly instincts would kick in and his sanity is stronger then it originally was. because of this, izana is more open to welcoming manjiro into his heart. in his head he thinks that maybe, just maybe…

❤︎ taking his frustrations with shinichiro out on mikey isn’t the right course of action.

❤︎ and as that thought is processed through his head, the sound of a gunshot can be heard ricocheting through the hair.

❤︎ it strikes not izana, not manjiro, not you…

. .

❤︎ it strikes kakucho right between his ribs.(please someone get this reference)

❤︎ yours and izana’s horrified screeches are heard throughout the entire arena. tears were welling up into your eyes as you hid yourself into izana more.

“KAKUCHO NO!” izana’s throat hoarsed out from all of the screaming, holding onto his servant brother tightly, cradling him in his arms.”

you feel your own body being grasped, however it wasn’t izana. no, mikey held you into his chest and silently cried, looking at kisaki with a glare so sharp it could cut him clean.

just when mikey thought he had finally completed his mission, kisaki once more ruined EVERYTHING.

kisaki goes onto his speech about how nothing goes his way, and how takemichi was a repetitive flaw in his plans and was nothing but a nuisance. he finished the speech by saying this:

“(y/n), you’ve been a nuisance since the beginning. if it wasn’t for you, emma would be dead and manjiro sano would’ve been MINE to mold, my perfect manjiro. i refuse to acce-“

before he’s swiftly knocked in the head by an oh-so farmilliar baton.

“the day we allow you to lay a finger on that kid is the day we’re dead”. ran scorched, his eyes burning with hatred. like that, the higher ups of tenjuku, as well as takemichi and draken, chased kisaki into the streets, where his life would soon cease to exist.

you stay with your two brothers, cradling kakucho as the life left his eyes. you always loved kakucho’s eyes, you thought they were the most mesmerising thing to look at. they were the eyes of your big brother, the one who swore to bash in anyone who dared wrong you.

as kakucho’s last breath was taken, he held your hand on one, with izana’s hand in the other.

only then, could you finally register the return of the tenjuku members, as well as the sound of the police force and an ambulance on the way.

dragging you away from kakucho’s deceased corpse was one of the hardest things izana had ever done, but with the help of his new little brother, mikey was safely able to relocate the two of you back at the sano household.

❤︎ the funeral was 4 days after his body was found, and his ashes were buried into the grave of the sano’s. mikey himself insisted that your family was his, and since he had no remaining family to claim his ashes, he would take them into their family grave.

❤︎ that was the moment izana accepted mikey as his little brother.

❤︎ after kakucho’s passing, it took a long time for things to get back to normal. emma welcomed the two of you in with open arms, missing the two of you dearly. she sobbed for three hours straight before she knocked herself out, promptly put into her bed by you.

❤︎ it turns out, the two of you fit in with your siblings quite well! since emma didn’t die in this timeline, mikey is still as joyful as he was before the battle. he would tease you and izana, surprise hug you and beg izana to go riding with him.

❤︎ emma loved having her two brothers back as well, she loves practising different makeup styles on your face, as well as teaching izana how to cook!

❤︎ kokonoi and inui had also rekindled their friendship, and welcomed you with open arms! nowadays, the three of you are a (WORKING) trio, as well as making friends with many different members of toman.

❤︎ izana also made peace with toman, and was welcomed with open arms. he is often seen with chifuyu reading manga together! (you tease him for it but love how he’s found a passion, as well as a buddy to share it with.) (chifuyu also called izana “brother” once and izana burst into tears bc he thought it was adorable. chifuyu is now promptly invited to the sano/kurokawa dinners)

❤︎ of course, the two of you are still rarely apart. you shared a bedroom for the first month of living with your family before finally moving into a bedroom of your own.

❤︎ on izana’s 19th birthday, a year after joining with the sano’s, you gifted him a baby picture of the three of you at the orphanage you had managed to dig up. he didn’t let you go for the rest of his birthday.

❤︎ you visit kakucho at least once a week with your brothers and sister, as well as bringing snacks and insence to light. these moments are your favourite, as they aren’t spent in mourning.

❤︎ they’re spent with your entire family, laughing, chatting and updating kakucho on big news.

❤︎ time spent with YOUR found family ♡.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers tenjuku #tenjuku #tokyo revengers izana #izana x reader #izana x male reader #male reader #sibling hcs #izana kurokawa #izana #tr izana #manjiro sano #emma sano #sano family

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antiyourwokehomophobia2 · 10 days

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Man, this pisses me off so bad. If you're a woman who relates more to males than other women, it's because you've decided to focus more on how you're different from other women rather than how you're like them. You will literally never have more in common with males, and males do not feel the same way about you. These cute little posts that you write about how you love males more than your fellow women? They do not write the same thing about you. They hate and mock you constantly. Anyone remember "Cis women need to shut up"

"As a cis woman, I agree"

"You need to shut up, specifically"

Yea, that's how they feel about you and your solidarity.

The difference between lesbians and trans women in female spaces is the fact that lesbians do not have high rates of violence. There is no group of women that outclass men in terms of violent tendencies. Trans women retain the rates of male violence that regular men do. I'm not saying you have to treat trans women like they're all violent beasts, but if you can't see why female people would be uncomfortable with male people in their spaces, you're either naive or genuinely unsympathetic towards the very real fear that women have of being subjected to male violence. You can't say trans women and lesbians are similar because, unlike males, there is no statistical evidence that lesbians are highly likely to take advantage of a woman. If it turned out that 98% of rapes were committed by lesbians, I would 1000% understand why straight women don't fucking want to be around me. Have some fucking empathy, holy fucking shit. Even if you are completely on board with trans women being in female spaces, at LEAST acknowledge that it makes sense for women to be concerned about who is allowed in their spaces. It's crazy how I could tell someone I have a fear of dogs because one bit me when I was a kid, and they'd put their sweet pooch up, but God forbid a woman be cautious around a demographic who commit 90% of all violent crime. Oh no. That woman is suddenly a terf bitch.

I have nothing in common with trans women. I don't care how much pain they have experienced. We are not the same. When I was twelve, I cried and I cried as I put my palms together to pray to a God I hoped would be able to take away my homosexuality. I didn't even grow up in a particularly homophobic family. Both of my parents were accepting of me, but I still sat in the dark of my room, tears streaming down my face, as I prayed to have my sexuality changed.

Two years later, one of my friends made a joke about me dressing to impress my crush. She said my crushes name---a feminine name. A girl sitting in earshot heard her, turned to me, and asked me with disgust if I was gay. I said no without even thinking about it. It absolutely did not help that we were in a locker room with other girls. I was aware of my sexuality by that point, but I was 14 and unable to hold my own against a girl looking at me like THAT. For a few weeks after that, that girl made comments about how she was "watching me".

I know pain, I know discomfort, I know what it's like to feel predatory. Seeing feminine women, especially if they're white, makes me feel like an alien. I look at them and think "how are we so different? I see none of myself in you."

Sometimes I'm right. Sometimes we're not similar at all. But guess what? That doesn't mean I'm similar to a straight male. Fucking hell, sometimes I'm not similar to other lesbians. That's completely normal. I think OP needs to read better work by cishet women. If you think that there is not a single piece of cishet female writing that can move you more than something written by a male, you're not looking in the right places at all. I don't understand why some LB women seem to think that the very act of someone being a straight woman makes them incapable of relatability. Of course it makes sense for you to be cautious. Lesbians deal with a lot of alienation and predatory feelings, but if the very ACT of a woman being cis and straight makes you feel like she has absolutely nothing in common with you...? The issue lies with you. YOU are the one othering THEM. Not the other way around. You're the one who has decided that a few cis straight women othering you means that they ALL will so you'd better beat them to the punch. You're the one who has decided that your relationship to womanhood is so astronomically different from straight women that nothing they say speaks to you. That's INSANE. Do you realize how much you have to alienate yourself from womanhood to feel more relatability with a male person than a female one? Idk how to tell you this, but it is highly probable that the most cis, most het woman you have ever met has had a period. It's highly likely she's been harassed by a man. It's highly likely she's been made to feel inferior by way of being born female. No, they can't relate to the experience of being a lesbian who is made to feel predatory for no reason, but to say that nothing a cis het woman says/experiences can move you at all? Nothing they say can make you feel like your experience with womanhood and hers are similar? Do you realize how you sound? "Trans women have been harassed by men and made to feel inferior, too!!" Okay! So you should be able to relate to cis women in the way you do trans women, right?

I told my discord server that I was nervous about my future roommates. I showed them photos and someone said "all this tells me is that they're feminine and white" and I literally think about that all of the time. I was projecting. I was so scared that these white, feminine, probably straight women were going to judge me for being a black lesbian that I didn't even realize that I was the one violently judging them based off of nothing but their skin color and their femininity. I knew nothing about them. I STILL know nothing about them. I've barely spoken to them. But already I had labeled them as unrelatable judgemental women because of how they looked. Hold on. Wasn't I the one afraid of them judging ME? How could I be so afraid of them judging me for being a black lesbian when I was the one judging them already? What sense does that make?

You guys are so busy writing off cis straight women as unrelatable bigots that you've failed to see that you're the one who is extremely prejudiced against them. And I absolutely fucking know someone is gonna read this and say "well, you can't say that all trans women have male violence patterns and dahdahdahdah" and it's like. But YOU can say that cis straight women are so unbelievably different from lesbian women that you'd rather say you're more similar to a straight up fucking male???

I'm not saying it's not a little jarring to see women who are so different from me. I'm not saying I haven't been burned before and there's no reason for me (or other lesbians) to be cautious. But I will literally ALWAYS have more in common with cishet women than I ever will a man pretending to be a woman.

One time I had a professor. She was on the older side (I'd say 40's) and white. Not the type of person I'd think I'd click well with. She was straight and married with children. One day we talked after class, and the only thing that ended our conversation was the fact she had an event she had to go to. We would've talked longer if not for that. She emailed me a little while later to tell me that she enjoyed our chat. After that, she actually hugged me on two occasions. You wouldn't think we'd have common ground. An older, straight, married white mother and a young black lesbian. Both of us are "cis" but I can tell you I relate to her much better than I ever could someone born male.

I once had a personal trainer who was a feminine woman. She had acrylic nails and everything. One time she said that she couldn't hug her male friends anymore because she had a boyfriend (he wasn't the one enforcing that rule. That was something she personally felt). Also not someone I thought I'd click well with. But we did. One time we had a really productive discussion that was actually derived from the conversation with my professor. I felt very close to her in that moment. Our conversation came to a close because she had another client, but I still think about that convo.

There have been so many fucking times where I thought "this woman is not like me. Look at her." But what I realized was that I was the judgmental one. I was the one deciding we were different, not her. I was the one writing her off. I was the one convinced we had nothing in common.

I am BEGGING you not to alienate your fellow women. There are no inherent traits that make you unable to relate to other women. No amount of whiteness or cisness or straightness can make a woman completely unreachable. I am NOT talking about political parties or views so don't fucking try me with that shit. Obviously that puts a wedge between people, but someone simply being born cis and het does not make them alien from you. For God's sake, look at the fucking MeToo movement. Women from all fucking backgrounds who share an experience that an unfortunate amount of women go through. Women from all different races, sexualities, etc. who came together to talk about how they've been subjected to sexual violence. Ellen degeneres was one of them. How does that fit into your "lesbians and cishet women cannot relate to each other" spiel?

OP's post has 130k notes and it makes me fucking sick. Holy crap y'all, we need more solidarity than this. Other women are not your enemy. I'm begging you to reconsider your approach to women who are different than you. You are missing out on people who can love and support you in a way that literally no male can. You are depriving yourself. Just because a few cishet women in the past alienated you, does not mean that you have to continue their legacy. Let it go. Everyone on earth can see you embracing your hatred of women, and you wonder why your fellow women never hug you? They fucking can't! Put your hatred down and make space for the love that comes with realizing that you absolutely are like other girls!

#You guys think you're so progressive but you're just in a woke version of not like other girls #Stop comparing lesbians to literal males #Jesus fucking Christ #I actually hate you guys so fucking much #I'm never telling anyone I'm gay every again bro #I hate all of you #I should've prayed to be asexual man #Maybe god would've taken me more seriously

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ddarker-dreams · 7 months

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lock!!! I need ur thoughts on Wriothesley

holding myself hostage to not go on another panopticon tangent

wriothesley has piqued my interest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the underwater prison in particular adds so many unique possibilities to him as a yandere. one of my absolute favorite horror experiences is the game soma, with its decrepit submarines and the intense claustrophobia from being stuck underwater... i find the ocean terrifying. like wtf is going on down there. what is a leviathan. why are giant sea beasts mentioned consistently throughout so many ancient cultures. Why are there noises picked up in the ocean that cannot be sourced. why are anglerfish. why why why.

as it relates to yan wriothesley — the fortress of meropide would have a subjugating presence that rivals his. creaking metal vents, dripping pipes, the all-consuming scent of saltwater and rust; running back to his arms would be a temptation. it'd play an integral role to ensuring your cooperation. wriothesley doesn't demand complete submission. he knows human nature, the tenacity sentience imbues, for better or for worse. he doesn't see the appeal in dampening the flames that burn within you. he'd rather build a perimeter around it that'll keep the fire from spreading and burning too hot.

total transparency isn't how he operates, though. he'll clue you in, build the maze you're to navigate, but won't hand over the blueprints. you're free to traverse the fortress as you please. you can talk to whoever you want, say whatever you want, such is your prerogative. at first, you can't help but find him naively arrogant. he might be "the duke," but even he must have limitations.

or so you think.

the vacant areas that guards seemingly overlook wind and stretch for miles. each step diminishes your hope, little by little. will your provisions last? do you really have the expertise to pull off a successful dive and ascent? why did a prudent man such as wriothesley leave a potential escape route unobstructed? these doubts are weights that drag you down, and, inevitably, back to where he waits.

this leaves pleading your case to your fellow inmates or the guards. the first time you try, it's a rush of adrenaline, stumbling over your words just in case he'd come dragging you back at a moment's notice. this incoherent accusation of his grace forging false evidence to keep you here, in the depths where he'd like you, doesn't go as you dreamed. you're either met with awkward apprehension or outright ignored. in the case of the former, it's safe to assume they think you're having a break from reality. the latter is worse, more cruel; they can see where you're coming from and elect to do nothing about it. why should they endanger themselves for your sake? it's a dog-eat-dog world in the fortress.

defeated and humiliated, you return to the administrative area 'willingly.' there he waits, the door unlocked to show he anticipated your return, leisurely sipping his tea. he isn't angry, bitter, or vicious. he just simply asks,

"did you have a nice chat?"

#i have gone up to pastors and asked them about leviathan before #none of them have an answer for me (cowards)#pastors dodging little lock bc i always had the strangest questions: 🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️🏃‍♂️💨#yandere wriothesley x reader #concepts #answered #Anonymous

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hpowellsmith · 1 year

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Play Royal Affairs - Out Now!

Steam | Apple Store | Google Play Store | Browser | Amazon

As the middle child of the Queen of Westerlin, you’ve led a sheltered life in the palace, but now you must spread your wings and prepare for your royal responsibilities with a year at the exclusive Archambault Academy.

Everyone knows your name, everyone has an opinion on what you do, and everyone views you as the face of the new generation of royalty. Your every move is reported in the press, a word from you could make or break a teacher’s career–or the fate of the school itself. You’re being courted by every club and social group on campus; and there are countless students who would love to be in your orbit.

In luxurious armchairs behind ivy-covered walls, you and your fellow students debate political theory—but outside, real trouble simmers across the realm. There are activists fighting to open voting rights beyond the aristocracy, and you can use your influence to sway the government’s decision in either direction. Relations are growing increasingly uneasy with your country’s neighbors, and there are conspiracies around every corner. Why is your mother whispering behind closed doors with the Prime Minister? Have the leaders of the protests really disappeared? Which allies can you trust? There are some secrets that only your royal authority can uncover.

Will you honor centuries of royal tradition and follow the path that your mother the Queen has laid out for you? Or will you be a force of change, leading your country in a new direction as you break free of a lifetime of expectations?

Oh, and speaking of expectations—there’s also the foreign royal that your mother wants you to marry. Who is in your class. And who happens to hate you.

Play as male, female, or non-binary; gay, straight, or bisexual; monogamous or polyamorous; asexual and/or aromantic.

Find love and/or friendship with your free-spirited childhood companion, a firebrand radical, a dreamy dancer, a financier haunted by tragedy, your devoted bodyguard, or a rival foreign royal.

Cuddle and train your pet: a horse, dog, or bird of prey.

Put on a lavish play, become a sports star, or run Student Council; and represent Archambault Academy against its rival Gallatin.

Become your classmates’ confidante and help them solve their problems—or make those problems worse.

Embrace your royal responsibility and carry on your mother’s tradition—and perhaps even take your sister’s place as heir to the throne.

Forge a path to the future by supporting revolutionaries’ calls for change, or stamp out the movement with scheming and deceit.

When this tumultuous year ends, will you be Archambault Academy’s crowning glory?

Steam | Apple Store | Google Play Store | Browser | Amazon

#choice of games #royal affairs #creme de la creme series #interactive fiction #indie games #amare games #text games #romance games #interactive novel #please rate and review if you enjoy!#this has been a huge journey and I'm so pleased it's out in the world

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kobb4ni2 · 9 months

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･｡ﾟ☆ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐘 𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

-> [ |Part One.| Part Two ]

✧ .* pairing ─ Yandere Boa Hancock.

✧ .* gender/pronouns ─ Female and She/Her

☆ .* note ─ YIPPIEEE I'm done with Boa hancock backstory and her relationship with Y/N for the Yandere Warlord series! I wanna make a build up first so I can make a connection and relationship with the charcters to Y/N bc being too rushed isn't my style tbh. Anyways I hope yall like this! Jinbie is next! BTW If your going going use the banner outside if Tumblr please credit me! Thank you and have fun reading!!

☆ .* TRIGGER WARNING ─ Celestial Dragons, Sl*v*ry, Implied SA, Kidnapping, Child Abuse and Spoilers for Boa's backstory

┈➤ Synopsis: Being a Warlord is a hefty job or title. Many fear you or look down on you. You may be looked down on as a Government Dog to other pirates but yet being feared and respected by your infamous reputation and the strength you had acquired.

There are many rules of being a Warlord that are implied to even normal pirates, one of them is to devote yourself to your captain or your goal when you're traveling in the seas.

It's just too dangerous to fall in love, especially on the high sea, yet that didn't stop your fellow Warlord from being intrigued by you. And are willing to do what it takes to take you, you were theirs in the first place eversince they laid their eyes on you.

As a mermaid, it was hard being on land especially when you were forcefully dragged by pirates who wanted to sell you for a high price. You remember the scream of your fellow species - the Fishman- fighting the pirates just for you to let go of yourself. You remember your crying for help and the screams of your relatives and your friends. It was truly a havoc in your hometown.

Your crying was canceled out of the tank they put you in when you were captured. You were thirteen that time when you were at your worst. And when you arrived at a human auction and when a white-suited, snobby-looking, human yelled his prize you knew that hell was going to begin. That man was a celestial dragon, one of the worst people that shouldn't ever exist in the first place.

You've heard their names no matter where you go. Those egotistical, vacuous assholes always cause fear, especially your kind, you heard stories and wished desperately that you'll never even meet them, yet the universe is truly cruel to you. And when you saw them bid for you and win was when your world collapsed...

There are no words to tell your experience being a slave to the celestial dragon. Being used in other ways, ways that you don't want to do, ways they violate you, they treat you like something to be replaced with and don't care about. But even in this hellhole, there was someone you connected with in the filthy cell they put you in. Her name was Boa Hancock she was twelve at that time and was the eldest of the three sisters. You don't know how you connected maybe it was the connection of the misery of being a slave or what but the four of you manage to have such friendship even in those years of torture

Boa was tired. Tired of being a slave. Tired of getting beaten, Tired of not being able to escape the neverending hopelessness. Tired of hearing her sisters scream for help every time they were near. It was another night of being a slave, every second felt like an hour whenever she was with the celestial dragons she couldn't take it any more, even if she was in the locked up jail she felt no peace yet... you came to her sight when you decided to help them.

Sandersonia was having a breakdown since she was last "needed" by one of the celestial dragons, Sandersonia was crying hysterically ever since, Boa and Marigold have been trying to calm her down, even though both were tired they will help and protect each other. Because the only person who could relate to each other. As minutes flew by, someone came and open the gate which caused the girls to be immediately quiet, they saw one of the guards throw in the young slave like one of the girls, if Boa was correct she was a new slave to the same master, but she was different, the slave in front of her was a mermaid an (F/C) tailed mermaid, she was covered in bruises and cuts, but she was also badly injured in her arm.

"This one is new, the master told us to put her in the same jail as you slaves because you guys are the master's favorite slaves."

And with that, the guard was off before locking the cell. The sisters looked at the injured mermaid, the sisters were too scared to move so they didn't do anything. The mermaid then started to move towards the nearest wall to lean in.

Boa heard a small sniffle and turned her head to see the (F/C) coloured mermaid was silently weeping. The mermaid then raised her head and noticed the three sisters. She then looked down and quickly wiped away the tears and did something unexpected she. . . smiled at the sisters and then waved at them even with there were dried tears on her face.

If Boa knew at that time what kind of impact you've had on her, she won't change it. No. No, she won't. She will rather relive that time when she first saw you even if she had to endure all the torture just to experience that moment again.

Sweet sugar candies. Was the now Empress of the Sea or another the current Empress of the Amazon Lily was holding. The gorgeous woman alive sat on her throne as she nibbled on some handful of sugar candies that were originally made for children. In normal circumstances Boa would never eat this kind of sweets, she has a mountain of piles of gifts given to her every day by her admirers but for some odd reason, Boa would send her sister Sandersonia or Marigold to import those specific kinds of sweets. She buys those sweets to be reminded of that fateful day. The day when you showed her that there's always hope even in the cruelest time of your life.

The empress then began to smile remembering you. Before the empress even begins trying to reminisce about you she suddenly stopped herself.

She wants to keep on remembering you but if she does she'll unlock bad memories of what happened.

She keeps you close to her heart even after these years because of how much she and her sister owe their life to you. You ways sacrifice yourself like how you always defend the sister, you may have tails but in her eyes, you always stand and protect her and even take her and her sister's place whenever the celestial dragons wanted some "fun" with them.

Your sacrificial attitude knows no bounds and you gave a prime example to her during that one fateful day.

That one fateful day when you sacrificed yourself for her and her sisters to leave the hell hole named "Mary Geoise" during the mass breakout.

The last time she saw you turning back and smiling at them while you immediately disappeared in front of their eyes as the fire swallowed you whole.

#warlord x reader #yandere warlord #yandere one piece #yandere one piece x reader #boa hancock #boa hancock x reader #yandere boa hancock #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #yandere op #i made the banner lolz!!

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gallusrostromegalus · 8 months

Note

AEIWAM ask spam 1: you’ve already elaborated on all the weird grudges people have, what about weird friendships?

THANK YOU! I am stupid busy but I am having a ton of fun with the friendships in this fic, so short versions that I can/will elaborate on later:

- Kenpachi and Byakuya: when Kenpachi first arrived in the Seireitei, Byakuya was a recently orphaned teenager and Kenpachi is, as he says "related to his mother" and can't help but take him under his wing a bit. As it stands, Kenpachi is, functionally, Byakuya's step-father.

- Izuru and Komamura: Wabisuke and Tenken were friends first, but it grew from there when Izuru got sent to investigate the curious incident of the dog in the night.

- Hanataro and Akon: The 4th needs more supplies than any other division and the 12th provides them, so the 4th's Toxicologist and Go-Fer gets to see the 12th's shadow captain all the time.

- Ikkaku and Sasakibe: the first lieutenant's meeting Ikkaku was at was ALSO the first lieutenant's meeting after TBTP, when nearly all the lieutenants had been field-promoted or killed, and there was a general bereavement, but when Sasakibe walked in to see what maniac the wildman that took over the 11th appointed for a lieutenant, he instead found Ikkaku doing stage magic tricks to cheer up a distraught Isane and Kaien, and realized this was a kind, if fundamentally ridiculous soul.

- "The Kids": Yachiru, Nel, Toshiro, Weiss, Syoga No Kotowari, and all the other Court Guard Brats tend to travel as a pack, and things can get a bit Lord Of The Flies sometimes.

- not exactly a friendship per se, but The Thirteen Daughters of Aramaki, including Hisana Kuchiki nee Aramaki.

- Soi Fon and Chikane Iba: after TBTP, Soi Fon ended up bonding with her fellow female captain and single mother Chikane Iba. And by "bonding" I mean "basically moved in with". Chikane was deeply relieved to have a regular babysitter and Soi Fon relieved to have another home to go to that doesn't contain her family. Or what's left of it.

- Rangiku and Retsu: Retsu, canonically, runs the Ikebana club, is the Chief Judge at the Seireitei Flower Festival, and keeps an enormous flower garden. Her first introduction to Rangiku is finding the academy student crouched in her foxgloves, and then being subject to a surprise 30minute lecture on the medical and cosmetic applications of digitalis, and realized she had found a kindred soul.

- Nanao and Gin: Nanao was quite possibly Gin's favorite person in the Court Guard, because she was very used to explaining things very slowly and in little steps, and Gin was functionally an escaped sausage roll in an executive position so 76% of the credit for the 3rd division's functionality goes to her. She liked having someone who actually listened to and took her advice and MAN, things got weird after Aizen.

- Uryuu and Yamamoto: Yamamoto doesn't actually hate Quincies- it's really only the "evaporating souls" thing he's got a problem with. Long ago, before the gotei-13, he was even friends with the ancestor of all Quincy, and misses his friend and curses Yhwach for what that monster did to him. Uryuu bears a startling resemblance to his ancestor, and it's nice to have someone to practice his German on again. Uryuu is fucking bewildered, but also severely short on men to look up to in his life and- well. Maybe. Maybe if they are friends, they can finally stop this feud?

- Yumichika and Ukitake: Yumichika was raised by his mother and the rest of the nurses in the first hospital in the Rukongai, and that's where he learned to fight too. It's a huge surprise for Ukitake when Yumichika knows what to do when he starts to have an anaphylactic reaction, but far from an unwelcome one.

- Renji, Iba and The Lads: Graduates of the Zaraki Kenpachi Finishing School for Young Men With Good Knees

- Orihime and Tousen: Hey, remember when we were both kidnapped by a deranged maniac that one time and coped by doing religious math and improvisational surgery about it? Good times!

- Chad and Komamura: "What do you guys even talk about?" "Nothing." "Why the secrecy?" "No Literally. We don't talk, and if we do it's about Nothing."

- Tatsuki and Mashiro: "This is boring, you wanna break chairs over each other's heads?" "Yeah!"

- Momo and Byakuya: The Rice Farm Subsidies Fraud Investigation.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction

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the-power-of-stuff · 2 months

Text

The Live-Action Sukka Manifesto that I Just Couldn't Keep in My Head

So I've been marinating in my live-action Sukka thoughts for the past three days, and when someone sent me an anon asking if I had any thoughts about the changes, at first I went, "DO I EVER?!" and proceeded to dump my entire brain on the page.

But then I worried maybe the anon wouldn't want to see my entire brain and figured I'd make my own post with my Many, Many Thoughts, and reel it in a bit when I answer the ask. And then link here if they're interested in the dissertation.

I'll put all the excessive details and spoilery stuff under a cut, but I'll start by saying, I didn't hate it! And I was afraid that I would.

There were things that I was bummed or had mixed feelings about, but there was also a lot that I genuinely enjoyed. All the Sukka interactions were cute and still had some decent character development, and I had fun with the episode overall (I've watched it thrice mind you, and definitely have not given the rest of the series that kind of attention). And I didn't necessarily dislike the differences from the original; I think I've just taken more of a "that was an interesting interpretation" approach.

But I better start that cut now, because I'm about to go on and on about this. I'd love to know what others think, though!! Even if the opinions aren't the same as mine! Please feel free to comment, reblog, shoot me an ask. If nothing else, I'm excited that the LA has gotten people talking about ATLA again.

So, I want to start with Suki’s characterization, which overall I found to be delightful, even if it was a bit of a watered-down version of her animated self.

In the original show, Suki is confident, sassy, and doesn’t take shit from anybody. She’s proud to the point of almost being arrogant, and even a little mean. What we get in the LA is someone who’s still confident in terms of her status and her skills, and still proud of her heritage and her role in her community, but with significantly less sass. And while LA Suki still seems like someone who wouldn’t take anyone’s shit, we don’t actually see LA Suki deal with that much shit from anyone (because Sokka isn’t really giving her any).

There is one moment in the show where her interaction with Sokka is a little contentious, which is when he tries to relate to her as a fellow guardian of his people. I think Suki’s question to Sokka about how is he protecting his village if he’s not there is meant to be a challenge to his swagger. However, the line is delivered with a softness that makes it seem as though Suki is, at least in part, genuinely curious. (This curiosity makes even more sense when we consider the fact that Suki’s eventually going to leave Kyoshi Island so she and her Warriors can take part in the war effort, and that she will have to contend with the question of “how do you do that without abandoning your people?” when coming to that decision. The LA lays a lot more of this groundwork than the animated show did: Suki outwardly expressing her desire to see the world, her mother’s secretive looks every time Suki gazes longingly at Sokka the possibilities…)

Compare these two moments, for example. These are both scenes where Suki expresses disbelief at Sokka's claims about his warrior-hood. But in the LA, Suki speaks rather quietly and mildly, in contrast to the brash sarcasm of her animated counterpart. LA Suki is also tilting her head down and away, looking at Sokka indirectly. OG Suki is leaning in close, getting in his face, smirking derisively with her hands on her hips.

I think there’s something to be said about the LA in general smoothing away certain personality traits that could be seen as negatives but that are actually strengths that are so narratively well-developed they occasionally show up as flaws (for instance, Katara’s fury, or lack thereof). Animated Suki is prideful and stubborn; she berates Sokka until he gives her sad puppy-dog eyes and has zero hesitation about making an example of him in front of her whole class. It’s a little ruthless, but these traits are also 1) what gets through Sokka’s thick skull (he, too, is prideful and stubborn), and 2) what makes her such a dedicated ambassador of Kyoshi and such a strong leader of the island’s Warriors at such a young age. I feel like the LA writers were afraid of making any of the protagonists seem too abrasive—everyone in the LA has had their edges sanded down, including Zuko, including Aang—and in general this tends to lead to less realistic representations of humanity and conflict, less satisfying character development arcs, and fewer opportunities for reflection and learning.

That being said! I went into watching the LA with negative expectations about what we would see in terms of character development, and thus was pleasantly surprised.

The LA removed the need for Suki to be as ruthlessly stubborn as she is in the animated show because LA Sokka’s skull is not so thick (and I'll get into that a bit more later). So what we get instead is a sheltered Suki with a helicopter mom who is so hilariously awkward that she has no idea how to interact with other humans. And, to be honest, I enjoyed this version of her so much that I even thought to myself, “I wish I’d thought of that!”

Suki is a straight-up weirdo in the LA and I love that for her. The way she puts Sokka in a chokehold and then looks at him after she sets him free like, “That was good flirting, yes? Would you like to be my boyfriend now?” And then her disappointment when Sokka walks away as if she’s thinking, “Why didn’t that go well, I thought boys loved getting put in chokeholds?” She is so precious, I just want to put her in my pocket. And this characterization might even be more broadly relatable than a super-confident Suki brimming with sass. Who among us hasn’t made a complete fool of ourselves in front of a crush by coming on way too strong and having no idea how to flirt? I mean…real.

And because Sokka is also mostly just making a fool of himself trying to impress a pretty and talented peer (instead of covering up his insecurities by wrapping himself in misogyny) this leaves room for the two of them to be attracted to each other right off the bat and for their interactions to be more overtly romantic throughout the entire episode. Which, avid shipper that I am, I have to admit I have been gobbling up for the past three days straight. This episode was an IV drip of romantic tropes hooked straight to every Sukka shipper’s veins.

Shy glances from across the room? Check.

Walking in on the other person half-naked? Check. (Y’all, Suki looks Sokka up and down for a FULL TWENTY SECONDS yes I timed it from the moment she appears in the background, yes you should count it to see how long that really is. Talk about awkward.)

Tripping so they end up falling into each other’s arms? Check.

Wide-eyed shock that turns into surprise thirst after being pinned to the ground? Check.

Shooting each other satisfied smirks as they kick ass side-by-side? Check.

Jumping in front of literal fire for each other? Check and check!

Like, I could live off this for the rest of the year.

But look, there’s a lot that I love about the way Sokka and Suki’s relationship is portrayed in this episode besides those romantically indulgent tension-creating moments, and it has to do with Suki’s admiration and validation of Sokka.

Suki really looked at this boy with his mouth stuffed half-full of steamed bun and went, “Must have.”

With the removal of overt sexism from this episode (for better or worse), the story focused much more heavily on Sokka’s development as a leader. He still has that sort of posturing display of self-confidence that comes from inexperience and trying too hard to prove oneself (“Ferociously…deadly tiger whales…”), and while at first Suki seems put off by this and his attempts to liken himself to her (“I’m not just a warrior, I’m a Kyoshi warrior”) it doesn’t take her long to decide (*cough*after seeing him shirtless*cough*) that she doesn’t actually mind this behavior (and in fact maybe she kind of likes it because maybe it means he likes her and maybe it means she can show him how much she likes him by slicing the tops off all those melons with her fan). She seems genuinely interested in his boomerang and impressed that he hunts, and then later, she immediately takes interest in training him in the Kyoshi Warrior style.

After they spar, she casually refers back to the fact that he’s his village’s protector, and this time, she does it without the disbelief and defensiveness. Because he’s finally stopped posturing. He opened himself up and gave himself over to Suki’s expertise, and in that way he proved that he has the will and desire—the heart—of a warrior. And Suki tells him so while touching him gently and gazing at him longingly in the soft golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. And as a die-hard Sokka stan, I love seeing him loved and appreciated like this. Adamantly. Ardently. The Sokka cheerleader in my head is going wild. “YEESSSS!! Our boy deserves this!!” Because we know that, in the animated show, he goes through a lot more struggle and self-doubt before he receives this kind of external validation. And while we also know that this makes for an incredibly satisfying growth arc, I gotta admit that it’s a fun bit of indulgence to watch Suki talk Sokka up directly to his face and then want to kiss him really bad. Y’know. As a treat.

That said, I'm very attached to and appreciative of the way their relationship is framed in the animated series. I love that their respect and affection for each other grows even after the disaster that is their first few interactions. In the LA, they are drawn to each other immediately, and the only barrier seems to be a bit of awkward stepping-in-it-ness. In the original, they have legitimate conflict, and they both have to give a little—Sokka becomes more humble, Suki becomes more tender—before they get to that point of potential romantic interest. And I think it says a lot about Sokka’s character and his desire to learn and grow that he is willing to humble himself in front of someone who, as far as he’s seen, has very little regard for him (slash has a good deal of animosity towards him). Giving himself over to Suki’s expertise costs him more in the animated show. But once he does, he and Suki learn and grow together. He shows Suki who he really is, shows her how dedicated and determined (and fun and a quick learner) he is, to the point that, by the end of the episode, she can allow herself to be vulnerable with him. And she does validate him in the original Kyoshi Warriors episode, just less directly than the LA. Her kiss on his cheek and “...but I’m a girl, too” is about forgiveness and acceptance and acknowledgement and respect, as much as or even more than it is about affection. There’s a little bit of romance, too, but it’s just little baby seeds of it, and it feels very natural to let those seeds germinate over time until we see Suki again later in the series.

Which brings me to the live-action kiss.

I’ll be honest, I was a little on the fence about the kiss. I want Sokka and Suki to kiss as much as possible in every conceivable universe. So there’s a part of me that was banging on the table and whistling with obscene joy. But the other part of me thought it was too much too soon. However, my hesitance pre-supposes some things about the second season (not least of which that there will be one), namely that it will handle the reunion with Suki and crossing the Serpent’s Pass anything like how it was done in the original. (Of course, one thing we now know for certain can't happen in a hypothetical LA season 2 is Suki pranking Sokka at the ferry station because he doesn't recognize her without her makeup. Do I love the expression on LA Sokka's face the first time he sees Suki's? Yes. Am I sad that this completely ruins their whole "You don't remember me? Maybe you'll remember this!" game? Also yes. But truthfully, I don't know if LA Suki would've been up to the prank, anyway. Not sassy enough. ;))

The Serpent’s Pass is one of my favorite episodes of all time, and that moment on the bluffs when Sokka and Suki are talking around Sokka’s loss, with the moon shining down on them all the while, and they almost kiss with the moon hanging between them in the background, and then Sokka pulls away without any other explanation besides, “I can’t”? That scene is so absurdly powerful and beautiful and an amazing moment of character development for them both, and I feel like it loses a lot of impact if they’ve already made out once. The fact that they kiss for the first time after that moonlit moment, when Sokka realizes that Suki doesn’t need protecting the way he thought she did, and in fact she was there to protect him, and he can finally just let go of this burden that he’s been carrying with him since Suki first mentioned she was joining them (slash since his dad put him in charge of an entire village at 13), and then and only then can he open his heart to what he feels for Suki, and in fact opens it so wide that he just cannot help but jam his mouth onto hers before she’s even finished talking…? I mean. C’mon. That’s poetry. But, again…loses impact if they’ve already had a first kiss.

But who knows what, if anything, they’ll actually do with that storyline. So for now, I’ll just enjoy my live-action Sukka kiss because, honestly, dream come true.

Or almost a dream come true. Because there's a huge camelephant in the room that I haven't addressed yet, isn't there? The lack of Sokka in the Kyoshi Warrior uniform...

And I don’t think we can talk about the omission of Sokka’s Kyoshi Warrior uniform without talking about the omission of Sokka’s sexism. Because if Sokka isn’t sexist, then why do you have to put him in the dress and makeup of traditionally female warriors to make a point about how women are strong and capable, too? So here’s what I’ll say about that (and I know there’s a lot that people have said already, so I’ll try not to belabor the point.) I don’t think leaving out Sokka’s sexism was necessarily a detriment to his character arc. I do think, however, that leaving out Sokka’s sexism was a detriment to the message the show was trying to convey about sexism.

Now, in the Northern Water Tribe episodes, the LA still gives us a message about fighting against the kind of systemic, institutionalized sexism that you might not be surprised to encounter within a very old-fashioned society or from a very old-fashioned gray-haired man. But what about the off-the-cuff, everyday kind of sexism that you might experience from an otherwise good person who is close to you? A person who loves you and would do anything for you but who gets carried away teasing you about “girly” things because of intrinsically-held biases that they’re not even that conscious of having?

I think it’s important and meaningful for male and female audiences alike, and everyone in between, to see these different forms of sexism and misogyny—to see them, to recognize those behaviors in others and in ourselves, to be able to name them, and to have examples of fighting against them. We see the former kind—institutionalized, systemic—in Pakku. And we did see the latter kind—familiar, personal—in Sokka. And now that’s lost.

Not only that, but there’s the form of sexism that says boys aren’t allowed to do feminine things lest they relinquish their maleness. And in the animated show, we got to see Sokka combating this form of sexism, too. Not only does Suki show him that girls can be fierce warriors as well as boys, but he learns that wearing makeup and a dress does not make him any less of a young man.

So, yes, I think the lack of Sokka in Kyoshi Warrior garb was a missed opportunity. And not just because Sokka looked really good in uniform and we all should have had the chance to see that, including and especially Suki.

Alright, this is more than long enough, so I'll leave off with a moment from the LA that gave me great pleasure.

I needed this moment, y'all. And I was so afraid it wouldn't happen. I needed Sokka being protective, I needed him using his newfound Kyoshi Warrior skills to fight, and I needed him jumping in front of fire for the girl who'd taught him. If we couldn't have Sokka in the Kyoshi Warrior uniform, at least we had this.

#natla #natla spoilers #sukka #live action atla #netflix atla #spoilers #sokka x suki #suki x sokka #gifs #my gifs #sukka gifs #meta #sukka meta #analysis

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bones4thecats · 8 months

Note

NRC teachers as parents to teen!mc

A/N: I made this more the NRC teachers as parents, but I did mention a few teen-related things inside of them, hope that's okay! Apologies for not getting this out any sooner, Anon! I do hope this is up to your standards though. Since I haven't really written these guys before, I hope this isn't too OOC! Enjoy!

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🪶 He never really did care for younger teens, despite how 'generous' and 'kind' he swayed himself to act and seem like, they just differed with him too much.

🪶 It takes a fairly long while before this crow is able to trust another being with any information, unless that being was something of usage to him, like you were.

🪶 At first, Crowley just wanted you to help him out with 'a few' things, but after each and every trial he handed you, you just got back up and took on even more responsibilities.

🪶 When he eventually trusts you, he adores it when you call him 'father' or anything relating to that.

🪶 If you could somehow use any kind of magic, he would teach you specific spells, if not, then he would just help you in certain subjects that he is quite knowledge in, like history of magic, practical magic, etc.

🪶 Crowley is a decent father figure, and a, equally decent real father, he can just get caught up in so much, so it's best to reel him in at certain points

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🐾 Crewel is... how do I say this without sounding fairly rude?

🐾 He's the kind of dad that would be super protective and would definitely attempt in separating you from those he deems as 'bad influences to his puppy'

🐾 He's a difficult person to work with at times, and he'd be the second to admit it (being Trein of course)

🐾 Divus would obviously get you the most elegant coats and clothes he can find, from boots to the most gorgeous looking fur coats you'll ever see in Twisted Wonderland!

🐾 Normally, Crewel wouldn't bring his dogs (I hc him with having two) to the college, as they don't get along with Trein's cat, Lucius, very well, but when they did come by one day and he saw you interact with the two pups, he just smiled and chuckled at the antics you three were getting into

🐾 He may not be the best dad when it comes to emotions, but he definitely is good when it comes to listening, and asking him to get you things that may seem embarrassing to other fathers (like pads if you're a female)

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🏆 This guy is the typical 'sports dad' that is seen in a lot, and I mean a lot of media

🏆 If you were to ever do any kind of sports, he would fully support you and would definitely be the kind of dad to have you skip your own practices, and have you do them with him

🏆 Vargas is a hot-blooded person by heart, so if you are his biological child, you would obviously inherit that from him, which would be a nightmare for the rest of his fellow staff members whenever you visited him

🏆 For some reason, I can see him doing the same as his Disney counterpart by eating a ton of eggs and such, and because he cares about physical fitness, he'd have you do it (as long as you weren't like allergic or something, he isn't that bad of a person)

🏆 If you were to be adopted by this coach, you'd be in-I'd say the 4th best hands on this list, which I'll get into more at the bottom!

🏆 He obviously cares about you, but his emotional range is fairly small, so bear with him whenever he seems upset when you make a mistake. It's his 'resting face'

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🐈‍⬛ Trein is the best hands you can be in when it comes to being the 'child of' in any of these scenarios

🐈‍⬛ Because he already has experiences with anything child-related from raising his two daughters, this cat-lover would be able to handle any challenge you handed him

🐈‍⬛ (for the fems!) If you were to have anything related to periods and such, he'd be right by your side helping you all the way through your pain, and don't forget his two daughters!

🐈‍⬛ They'd by right by your side as well, helping you very amazingly, as they learned what to do from their father's example

🐈‍⬛ If he cannot be there to comfort you or anything like that, he'd normally allow Lucius to be there to watch over you, like a sports game? Lucius! Play? Lucius! Really anything

🐈‍⬛ Because of how close you are to this imposing teacher, Lucius would be right by your side a lot, which if you're the MC/Yuu, would get a few cat fights to be initiated from their shared possessiveness of you

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(I do know that Same technically isn't an NRC teacher, but I like adding him in, so :p)

🃏 Sam is the literal definition of the 'best dad on earth'

🃏 He is quite a fun guy at times, and if you are related through blood, you share the go-lucky and charismatic personality

🃏 This man would get you into his 'spiritual connections' faster than any kid falling back asleep after turning off their alarm clock

🃏 Yes, he's that good of a salesperson

🃏 You're the only one, and I mean the only one, who is safe from being called a 'little imp', instead though, he'd call you his 'little clover', even if you hated it, he wouldn't stop calling you it

🃏 Handling teenager things is quite hard for him, as he was kind off socially distanced because of his interests, but seeing you either in emotional pain or physical pain hurts him and makes him want to just wrap around you in a bear hug and never let go

🃏 He had be quite protective of you, especially when around the other spirits he knows. Like Eliza for example, during the wedding event, he made sure she didn't choose you, as you were A; to young for it (in his eyes lol) and B; he wanted you to marry on your own will

🃏 You're definitely close to the spirits he contacts, which scares the other students when a shadow randomly chases another down the hallway

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My rankings for best to worst father ; NRC teachers

Mozus Trein

Sam

Divus Crewel

Ashton Vargas

Dire Crowley

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#Twisted Wonderland #Twst #Night Raven College #NRC #NRC Staff #Night Raven College Staff #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #Twst x Reader #Night Raven College Staff x Reader #NRC Staff x Reader #GN! Reader #MC! Reader

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