#i think it was partially because of like the constant content and having such an active fanbase

[countryfriedcatboy]

ceret was the character ever honestly my blorbo literally decked a dictator for talking shit like. i am proud she was the backbone of my tumblr career

#will never be as non normal about her actualy like any other character will never compare #i think it was partially because of like the constant content and having such an active fanbase #and like everybody bascially hyperfixating over the same thing #and id gotten really comfortable in the space and had so many friends and shit like man #i kinda miss it n shit cus i dont feel like i connect with the series anymore with how it ended for me #like it was real suddenly for me and shit and like #mostly just been switching hyperfixations and like #idk scared to get into another fandomspace full-time tbh #that turned into a vent i didnt mean for that rbhf #phase weeps

[bokettochild]

Random Legend Headcanons that haunt my brain at stupid hours <3

He has a big sweet tooth, but less so for sugary things and mostly more for fruits

greatest seemingly "irrational" fear is dogs, he has never liked them even since childhood, and the only dog he can stand is the old sheepdog his grandparent's kept to keep track of the goats

Sky is his favorite. Sky is real with him and doesn't dismiss him as an asshole = automatic favorite. They also share a lot in common

he and Sky like gossiping when no one is paying attention to them. Not about the other heroes necessarily, they just both find it fun

oral stims: he likes his hands free, but chewing/sucking on things helps him focus better and stay calm. He refuses to admit how many times he's found himself chewing on his medallions

he loves puzzles. You'd think he'd gotten enough of them in his adventures, but nope! Hes been doing this long enough that going WITHOUT puzzles to solve actually makes him feel bored. He likes the challenge of it, it keeps his brain ticking

history nerd. A lot of Hyrule's culture/history/tradition was lost because the people were just trying to survive after Ganon killed the hero, so Legend really likes trying to hunt down the pieces of the past to put together what it was like. It's a big puzzle for him, and he loves talking about it if he feels he'll actually be listened too

he knits. He doesn't know many patterns, but he knows some basic stitches and the repetition calms him down

good at most needlework, sucks at embroidery. He likes it, it's just too stressful for him. He's in awe of the fact that Sky's so good at it.

he actually loves the sea I know most writers have him scared of it, but he's got far more happy memories than bad ones, so while it's bittersweet, he still enjoys being near the water (as log as it's not storming)

hates lightning storms with a passion. Storms in general make his arthritis worse, but the lightning trauma sucks a lot more

actually enjoys light rain showers. it still effects his pain levels, but not super bad, and it's worth it to him

has the most un-attractive laugh ever. He tends to snort and cackle like a madman. He does have a "polite laugh" but it's far less genuine.

he CAN cook, he just doesn't care to. Food is an annoying requirement and necessity for him most of the time, and more of a chore than he's willing to admit

he has the biggest soft spot for kids, partially because of Gully, partially by nature

the most susceptible to Baby Therapy (the effect of feeling at peace, content, happy, or relief while holding a small child) Ulli figured this out early on and now abuses it.

he loves stargazing. Stars are a constant no matter where he goes and they're like old friends (got this from the manga)

he's an artist and a perfectionist, his preferred medium is paints, but he does carry a sketchbook

loves physical contact, but is hesitant about others boundaries, so he rarely initiates or maintains it

I have more, but yeah, this is getting pretty long :')

#lu legend #linked universe #linkeduniverse #ketto can't sleep #so have some blorbo thoughts

[rollforfelicity]

Why Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves Didn't Use D&D Combat Rules (And Why They Were Right Not To)

The D&D movie was really fun, and since at this point most of my friends play D&D (or at the very least other TTRPGs), almost everyone I talk to on a regular basis has also seen it and liked it. The consensus is that even though there's no "meta" that the characters are controlled by players sitting around a table, or jokes about the DM, the movie feels like D&D. The jokes feel like jokes people would make while playing. The constant pivoting from Plan A to Plan B to Plan C feels familiar to anyone who has spent an hour at a table deciding what to do, only to have a roll go sideways and screw things up. Before I get too far, I should say this post contains some mild spoilers for Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves.

What didn't feel like D&D were the fight scenes. In one scene, a Paladin quickly dispatches a group of enemies before any of the rest of the party even acts, showcasing that even though he's kind of a square, he's an incredible fighter. In another scene, the Barbarian grabs and wears a helmet in the middle of a fight, using it creatively to get the upper hand. During a fight against a gargoyle, the Bard blinds an enemy by throwing a blanket over their head, but gets pulled along with them when a loose rope wraps around his leg. These are all pretty big moments in the movie, and Rules as Written, would never happen at a D&D table, because D&D combat doesn't work like that.

Here's what I think is interesting. The vast majority of the rules of D&D revolve around combat. It's not all of the rules, but most class abilities, spells, items, and rules have a combat focus. So why does a movie that functions partially as advertisement for the game spend so little effort to replicate the bulk of the content of the base game?

In my opinion, it's because, Rules As Written (or RAW), combat in D&D is not, generally speaking, narratively satisfying. Let's look at a few reasons why.

D&D is a game where, RAW, things either happen, or they don't. If someone misses an attack, nothing happens. If someone misses a skill check, nothing happens. DMs can work with this, but in the base game, there isn't a lot of guidance for what to do when a player fails at something they're trying to do. This may seem trivial, but compare that to something like Powered By The Apocalypse, which is much more narratively focused. In those games, a full miss means the Game Master changes things up. The enemy gets the upper hand. A new danger surfaces. An NPC is put into peril. Not only does the player fail at what they're trying to do, but something else, bad for the Player Character (PC) but good for the story, happens. On a mixed success, the PC might get what they're after, but at a cost, or with a complication they weren't expecting.

This calls to mind the example of the Bard throwing a tarp over the gargoyle in the final fight of the D&D movie. That's a classic example of a mixed success. He succeeds at temporarily blinding the creature, but in the process, he gets caught up in the gargoyle's rope and is dragged along for a ride. This is a dynamic thing to happen in combat, but wouldn't happen in actual D&D. Instead, a PC would either succeed at what they're doing, and blind the creature, or fail and not blind them. You could argue that the Bard's action was the result of a Natural 1, but that also doesn't fit RAW, because the Bard does succeed as what he's trying to do, and with a Natural 1, he would have failed and been pulled along.

D&D doesn't really reward player creativity. Something like throwing a tarp over a creature wouldn't be likely to happen in a session at all, because in the actual game, it would take a full action to do that, and depending on the Difficulty Challenge (DC) the DM sets, there's a good chance of a wasted turn. Creative actions end up a huge gamble, and when you're playing a game where it could be 20+ minutes before you get to take another turn (more like an hour if you're playing with a Wizard, amirite), you're disincentivized from "wasting" your turn to do something less than optimal. You can describe what you're doing to add to the narrative, whether you succeed or fail, but that brings me to my next point.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this question from Rise Up Comus since I read it a month ago. In D&D, a player can describe all kinds of flavor to what they're doing, and there's no change to the mechanics of the game. You could read this as saying "Oh, well that means you have the freedom to do what you want!" but if you look at game design through the lens of "what kind of play does this game encourage or discourage" the takeaway I have is that description just...doesn't matter to D&D. In my experience, that can lead to a few different unsatisfactory outcomes.

Both players and DM treat combat as purely rolling, and describing only what is required. A DM announces, "The enemy wizard casts fireball, roll dexterity save, take 25 damage. Turn passes to the Rogue." Sometimes players who describe what they're doing are seen as showboating or taking up too much time. Worst case scenario, the DM penalizes descriptive players.

Some players like describing what they do, others don't. This has no mechanical effect on the game. Players who aren't descriptive might be frustrated that an already slow process is slowed down even more. Descriptive players may become frustrated because there's no mechanical benefit to what they're describing, and spend time fruitlessly arguing with the DM that focusing on a weak point of the enemy should give them advantage. I think most tables fall into this category. It's not a bad game by any means, but not everyone is there for the same reason when it comes to combat.

Rule of Cool Table! Everyone describes whatever they want, the dice rolls don't really matter! Combat is generally pretty easy because fuck the rules, if it's cool for the dragon to die based on how the fighter described the attack, even if it's only the first round of combat, hell yeah let's do it! For players who like being more strategic and enjoy the confines of the rule structure because it makes things challenging, these tables can be frustrating. (If you're familiar with Dungeons & Daddies, this is essentially how they play D&D).

Because there's no guideline in the rules, people come to the table with different expectations. Some people want combat to feel like a strategy game, where following the rules in the most optimal way (or combining rules elements in an unexpected way) is mechanically rewarding (usually measured by damage output). Some people want to describe themselves doing cool stuff! Some people don't care about their characters looking cool, but want the story to be compelling. If everyone isn't on the same page, this can lead to players ending combat feeling unfulfilled, and when combat is the bulk of a rules set, it feels strange to me that there's no guidance for DMs or players as to how to incentivize the kind of combat your table is interested in.

This leads to a situation where combat in D&D is the part of D&D that takes the longest, that the majority of spells and abilities are focused on, but it is, narratively, the least satisfying part of the game, unless the table alters the base rules significantly.

If you're not familiar with other TTRPGs, you might be thinking "Okay, but that's why the DM is allowed to do whatever they want and make up new rules! My DM gives inspiration when we describe something cool, that solves this problem!" My critique isn't necessarily of individual tables. DMs and players come up with all kinds of mechanics that aren't in the rules. My critique is that D&D is a role-playing game that essentially has no incentives, and many disincentives, for role-playing during combat. For example, RAW, characters don't really have time to communicate during their turns, as each round takes about 6 seconds. There's no time for banter or negotiation between PCs and enemies. You can see this disconnect by the way people talk about D&D. How many times have you heard people say "I love D&D but I don't like combat?" How could this rift be rectified? Let's take a look at some other TTRPGs.

In 7th Sea, if you take the time to describe how your character is doing something, you get a bonus to your dice pool. In Thirsty Sword Lesbians, when you get a mixed success on a Fight roll, you and your opponent are given narrative prompts to build tension (like flirt with or provoke your opponent). In Kids on Bikes, you can fail or succeed rolls by different number ranks, which determines how significant the successes or failures are. In Wanderhome, you get a token when you "take a moment to bask in the grandeur of the world, and describe it to the table." In Good Society, each player gets a "monologue token" which they can spend to prompt another player to deliver their Main Character's internal monologue. I just played a bad-action-movie-themed game called Action 12 Cinema, where players can boost a roll if they call out the song that would be playing during this scene of the movie, and get an even FURTHER boost if anyone at the table sings it.

Each of those game mechanics gives you an instant understanding into the mood of the game, and the kind of stories its built for you to tell. Even if you've never heard of any of those games, I bet, based on the title and the move, that you could hazard a guess as to what playing the game is like. Dungeons & Dragons certainly has rules that add to the lore of the game, and prompt you to create characters that act a certain way. But when it comes to combat, players and DMs are left to their own devices. Some may see that as a strength of the game, but I see it as a source for a lot of disappointing play experiences.

And it seems as though, at the very least, the writers of Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves thought the combat rules were narratively unsatisfying enough that they eschewed using any of them.

#ttrpg design #ttrpg #indie ttrpgs #indie ttrpg #dungeons and dragons #d&d #d&d movie #please don't read this in bad faith #i just like thinking about game design

[torialefay]

☀️ Sun in Libra ⚖️

bangchan as your boyfriend!!! (pt. 2)

(based on astrology) 🔞

✨bangchan x reader (f); fluff, angst, slight smut if you count like 4 sentences.

✨ word count: 2.3k

✨take a look into chan’s natal chart to see what type of boyfriend he would be! in this post, i will be talking about his sun in libra. this is a series!!! so follow up later if u want more <3

✨i will give a brief synopsis of what each chart placement means (for all my non-astrology friends out there <3) and how that would affect channie in a relationship :)

✨ author’s notes:

(1) some very sweet stays confirmed that channie’s birth time is in fact 20:54, yay! this means i will get to look into more aspects of his chart and post more content for anyone who wants to keep up.

★★(2) i am considering doing brief (just bullet points/highlights) astrological compatibility readings if anyone wants one! if you’re interested, message me your birth date, time, and location OR lmk your placements. i’m gonna limit the reading to include you x 1 skz member only! just specify who you’d like.

(3) i am trying to get better at using gender-neutral pronouns so more people can feel included in my posts. i’m really struggling since i use phrases like “my girl” a lot. anyone who has some good alternatives or tips, please message and lmk!

(4) the aspects in this reading are based solely on my opinions and interpretations! nothing about a person is set in stone simply because of astrology. please don’t use anything i say as canon :)

✨warnings: light sexual undertones???

✨ tl/dr: chan is a people pleaser, and thus as a bf will be a YOU pleaser. happy thirsting.

Sun in Libra: Sun signs are all about personality- the face you show the world! It is also the lens through which you usually see yourself and how friends would describe you.

-Libra is a cardinal sign, meaning that people who are in this placement REALLY live by the aspects associated with that placement- in other words, chan is likely to hold very true to these values.

-Libra is ruled by Venus, the planet of love, beauty, and charm. People with a Libra Sun tend to be extremely charming and value beauty in the world. They often seek approval from others and are people pleasers. They want to be well-liked and well-known. Because of this, they will avoid conflict and have a hard time being criticized or being involved in drama of any kind. They will also often “mold” themselves to fit into any environment. This is partially because they highly value balance and peace in their lives, and can also lead to indecisiveness.

as your boyfriend:

• Chan will mold every aspect of his personality to fit with yours. Once he decides he is interested in you (because he can be one indecisive mf’er), he will literally BECOME the person you want and need (even tho you think he’s perfect as is). And he loves it too. He loves the feeling of being the only person in the world who is “perfectly made for you." Even more, he loves the fact that you know that he’s the perfect man for you. He will need constant reassurance of it too.

• He LOVES when you dress him. I’m talking (1) you are picking him out an entire wardrobe, (2) you are picking his outfits for every date you go on… so it matches with you ofc hehe, (3) if he doesn’t know what to wear, he is automatically calling you (i mean you know his closet anyways since you chose it all, so might as well choose from afar). He wouldn’t buy any clothing without sending it to you first to make sure you think it’d look good on him. He’d like for you to pick him out new styles, but he would ADORE when you stick to things he’s comfortable with like blacks and more comfortable attire. He would love how much you thirsted over him when he put on his “bad boy tumblr aesthetic” outfits. It would make him feel so much more confident going into everyday life knowing that he was dressing up for and catering to his girl only.

• He will absolutely still mildly flirt with stays (sorry y’all). But he will be mindful to not take things too far… in other words, no more calling stays Mrs. Bang lol. That one is reserved for you. He just has such a charming and flirtatious personality that he can’t help himself. BUT he always makes sure to conclude anything he says to stay with “haha I’m just joking… So thankful my beautiful girlfriend will share me with STAY.”

• He is taking you out on LOTs of dates and TONS of events. He is a super social guy, so he loves any chance he gets to take you out and make memories- especially in groups. If any of the boys have a significant other, he would love nothing more than to go on double dates with them. He would always plan for something low key, but fun with them. Anything extravagant is reserved for you only.

• Chan would introduce you to all the s/o’s of skz and would basically push you to be besties (without even realizing it). He’s so good at being social and over-committing himself that he would most likely always take up the opportunity to hang out with skz and their partners, including you by default. Cause you’re an extension of him, duh. He’d love when you’d bond and get super close with the members’ partners, and it would reassure him that you were the one for him when he saw how well and perfectly you blended into the friend group.

• He is buying you flowers every damn week. It doesn’t matter if you’re with him or on the other side of the world, he is making sure you have flowers. Or snacks. Or whatever you’re into. He is a people pleaser by nature, and who else would he want to please? He also can’t resist the smile on your face when he knows that he’s the cause.

• He likes it when you baby him. You are the ONLY person he lets take care of him. He has such a strong and happy personality with others, and many times he will not feel comfortable being vulnerable with too many people. You know how stressed he gets. He is always trying to keep up appearances after all. When he gets home from a long day of doing everything anyone could possibly ask of him, he feels the immediate comfort of knowing that you will take good care of him. He would love when he’d come home to a meal that you cooked. Or when you were watching a movie and you’d sit up with your legs in front of you, motioning for him to rest his head on your lap so you could play with his hair. He would absolutely melt if he was sitting at his desk working on something, and you’d come up behind him, towering over him with forehead kisses while you squeezed into his back. He would love the comfort he felt during foreplay (or even when he was bored) of just holding, squeezing, and sucking on your tits while you looked down at him with loving eyes. He’d go wild at the way you would straddle him and rub him through the fabric of his shorts while telling him how perfect and loved he is.

• Channie will hate any fights he has with you. He genuinely cannot deal with it. He hates feeling like he’s done something wrong, and it will take him a longggg time to talk to you about it if he feels something isn’t right or if he gets mad. Usually, you will have to initiate the conversation.

• “Channie? Can we talk?” You knocked on his door. You had gotten into an argument with him about an hour ago.

◦ A stupid argument really. He had heard you talking with a friend over the phone. “You and I both know Chris isn’t going to buy me that,” you laughed into your cell. “He’s saving up for that new car that he has to have,” you rolled your eyes and smiled. You thought it was a joke of course. It’d be ridiculous for him to buy you a $5,000 ring for no reason. YOU thought you were just being sarcastic. Maybe in retrospect, Chan didn’t feel the same.

◦ He looked at you with a face that tried to mask being upset. But you could tell. “What are you talking about?” He asked with a clenched jaw.

◦ “That ring,” you smiled and stuck your tongue out at him, obviously messing with him. He knew the ring. You’d showed him weeks ago.

◦ You saw his face go blank, like a bare canvas just waiting to see what reaction would be painted on next. He raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and nodded. You could see the annoyance on his face. He stood up of the couch and promptly headed to the bedroom. What was his problem?

◦ Now here you are… an hour later and radio silence.

• Chan gave no response. “Please, I want to talk about this…” you trailed off and waited for a few seconds. Still no response. “Come on Channie, I hate when we are fighting, please let’s just talk about this so we can feel better.” You heard rustling and then saw the door in front of you slowly open. There was a messy-headed Chris stood in front of you with puffy eyes and a locked-in jaw. You put your hand on his chest and nudged him ever so slightly so you could pass through the doorway and sit on the edge of his bed. He followed.

• “Okay, do you want to go first, or do you want me to go?” You asked, trying to get him to look into your eyes. He avoided them at all costs.

• “Do you really think I’m that bad of a boyfriend? You think I’m that self-absorbed to be funneling money into some fancy car, when I wouldn’t even buy you a ring you’ve been wanting for months? I would give you the world y/n, and you know that! Why would you even say something like that?” His lids and eyebrows turned downward as he spoke loudly. He was genuinely hurt.

• “No, I do not think you are a bad boyfriend! I think you are the best boyfriend in the world. Honey, I was KIDDING. I know how expensive that ring is. I was making light of how ridiculous it would be for you to just randomly buy it for me. I was joking that the reason you didn’t do it was because of the car, but it was just sarcasm. That’s literally it. How could you think I was serious?” You looked him dead in the eyes with a furrowed brow.

• “Because I AM serious y/n. I already bought you that ring. Because I love you. I was waiting until Valentine’s Day to give it to you. And you saying that just makes me feel like I’m the worst boyfriend. And now, that’s what your friends think too. I just- that just makes me really upset.” You felt your heart break. It wasn’t anger in his voice. It was disappointment. Disappointment in you. You knew how badly he struggled with self-image and with how others perceive him. It meant a lot to him. Even though he was trying to work through it, he wasn’t there yet. And you knew that.

• “Channie,” you breathed out. “I am so so sorry. I need you to know that it wasn’t my intention to make you feel that way. I think you are the perfect boyfriend.” You scooted closer to cup his face in your hands. “My friends know you are the perfect boyfriend. I talk about it all the time.” You lowered your face down to look him in the eyes. “I tell them about how much of a gentleman you are, always opening the door for me and holding my hand when we’re walking. About how beautiful you sound when I visit you at the recording studio and you’re making a sample. About how strong you are that I can feel it every time I grab onto your arms.” A tiny smile crept across his face and he looked down in embarrassment. You unconsciously mirrored his smile back. “I absolutely revel in the fact that you are the most perfect man I’ve ever known. Please don’t think that I think anything less of you. You are my perfect boy, and I’m sorry if I did anything to make you feel unloved or unappreciated. I will call her back right now just to emphasize to her that I was kidding if you think it would help you feel better.”

• Chan had a small tear in his eye when he finally looked back up at you. “No, no, you don’t need to do that… I’m sorry baby. I just- I took it the wrong way. You know I can do that from time to time,” he giggled up at you, getting embarrassed again. And he wasn’t wrong. “You are the most special person in the world to me. I never want to not live up to what you deserve… I know I have had problems with this, but I promise you that I’m working on them, and I will continue to work on them until I get better at it. You’ve already helped me so much.” Looking deeply at you, he sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I will do better, I promise.”

• “It’s okay, it really is. We just have to work together through this. I also promise to do better at not making little jokes about you and being more respectful about our relationship. We will work on it together, okay? Deal?”

• “Deal.” He stuck out his pinky for you to intertwine with yours. In the same moment, you both bent down to kiss your hand. You’re sworn into the pinky promise now. You followed up with a swift kiss to his lips and a big hug around his neck. You stayed like that, locked in for a couple of seconds until you could feel his body relax underneath you.

• “Let’s not fight anymore. This feels way better,” you murmured into the side of his neck.

• “I can think of something else that would feel even better.” He locked his hands behind your waist and flipped you to onto your back. Maybe pinky promises could be broken, you thought. Hell, you’d break it if the fighting led to this.

• He gently kissed down your neck. “We will be okay,” he whispered softly into your ear. “I will be perfect for you, and you will be perfect for me.” Sun in Libra.

#bangchan scenarios #bangchan x female reader #bangchan x you #bangchan x reader #bangchan fluff #bang chan #chris bang #bangchan angst #bangchan imagines #bangchan stray kids #bangchan smut #bangchan #skz x reader #skz smut #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz angst #christopher bang #chris bang smut

[lyramundana]

I BASICALLY LOVE MINSUNG X F!READER CAN YOU SAY YOUR HEADCANONS ABOUT IT? I'm so sub for them I swear the god

I can feel your enthusiasm through the comment and I totally relate to it, I'm really a sub for these greek gods too!!

Now I have various headcanons with my oc, Vivi or Violeta, but since you mentioned fem!reader, I'll go with that.

POLY MINSUNG X FEM! READER HEADCANONS

-They're both switches, but Minho tends to take the lead and leans towards dominance more. However, Jisung can be pretty intense too and they can have this battle of pride where they try to manhandle the other into submission. It's fucking hot when it happens because you can't tell which of them is doming here.

-Since Jisung is the younger in the relationship (for a while), he's usually the one being take care of and he LOVES it. Minho, on the other hand, enjoys pampering his jagiya and protect him. The roles outside the bedroom remain the same usually. Minho is the caretaker, with ocasional soft moments when he needs pampering too, and Jisung the babyboy that needs constant affection.

-When you come into their lives, their routine crashes and their entire world perception is turned upside down.

-You meet Jisung first, both of you becoming friends quickly, and you kinda befriend Minho too by association. At first you two only hang out when Jisung is involved and aren't really close, but as time passes and he sees how comfortable his boyfriend is with you, he starts to warm up to you. In return, you see how happy he makes Jisung and the great partner he is, so she start to apreciate him more.

-What started as a friendship with Jisung and a mutual respect with Minho becomes a besties trio. You're younger than them, so they try to look after you out of instinct, but since you're not korean you don't really see the point of this idea of treating people differently by their age.

-More often than not you have arguments because you feel they see you like a kid sometimes and you remind them that you're a fully independent human and you don't need to be treated like a damsel in distress. Jisung is a lot more open minded about it and understands your point of view, but Minho is more conservative and stubborn, so you two argue the most. As your bond progresses, you learnt to let them take care of you sometimes and be vulnerable with them, while they accept to treat you like an equal instead of a "dongsaeng".

-Following this, there are times you decide to take care of them instead and babying them in return, partially for teasing but also because you like it. They're so cute and soft and fluffy when you're alone, you just want to squeeze them in your arms. You reprimand them like they're your children when they do something that bothers you, you bring them clothes and make-up, you fix their hair and clothes when they look messy, you call them stuff like "good boys" "my babies", "my darlings" (the last one is always in a playful tone).

-The position of dominant one in the relationship it's yours now because Minho has found out he loves to be babied and spoiled too, so when you're around he lets you on charge often. In private, they just want to snuggle with you and have you massage their scalps, call them sweet names and cover them in love. Jisung lets out hums of contentment and Minho straight up purrs, curling into a ball against you. At first he fights is off because it hurts his pride as man and the oldest, but it feels way too good.

-Suddenly they bring you to their dates. You become a part of every activity they usually engage in together. You feel weird at first thinking you're intruding in couple activities, but they reassure you constantly that they enjoy your company.

-They're obsessed with hearing you speak in your native language. Even if they don't understand anything, the way your voice shifts and how beautiful you sound makes their brain go brrrr. If used right, you can use this to lull them to sleep.

-From outside, it looks like the typical girl with her gay besties (and you think that's the reality), but some of their acts feel more than platonic. Regardless, you embrace this image and proudly refer to them in the same way, not noticing the uncomfortable frown on their faces.

-They're the type to treat you like their partner before you guys establish it, just to mark territory for other people (and because they really want to live that fantasy). You may not be theirs fully, but they'll be damned if they let someone else get you. They don't get it at first, they fool themselves into thinking they're just being good friends that care for you too much.

-In my au where Minho experiences a bi awakening because of fem!reader or my oc Violeta/Vivi, this is all more intense and chaotic. They have a lot of trouble dealing with it because they don't know what this means for their relationship and, considering the culture they've been raised, the idea of polyamory doesn't instantly pop in their heads. They're confused and scared, because they feel they're emotionally cheating on the other and also ruining their friendship with you. This leads to several misunderstandings because they can't cope healthily, but they still insist on having you close.

-However, once they come to terms with their feelings for you and embrace, they go from shy, awkward boys to possessive, almost toxic men. They were already clingy before, not wanting you to leave them for anything or anyone, but now they don't even hide it. They're determined to have you, to show you belong with them, and can't stand seeing you with other people.

-It starts slow, you can't even notice. They're more physically affectionate, one of them or both is always touching you in some way when you're out, they refer themselves "jokingly" as your boyfriends and that's why you don't need to go on dates with someone else.

-Then it grows. Their hands now drift from their usual places at your shoulders and back to your waist. Their clinginess worsens. They make you sleep with them in the same bed, shower together like "besties" do, dressing you up because "they love seeing you in new clothes", etc. You force yourself to not think much of it because you see how perfect they are for each other and there's just no way they can feel something more for you..right?

-They're frustrated by how blind you are to their advances, but at the same time, they use it to their advantage to get away with it. The only reason you let them go this far is because you're convinced they can't like you that way and you bet they'll take it as an advantage. As long as you think it's all *overly friendly besties", you won't push them away.

-Deep down, you know something is off here but you can't help but enjoy their little acts. You're used to repressing your forbidden feelings for them to not ruin things, but when they treat you like this, you just let yourself get caught in the moment and pretend you're actually dating them.

-It all breaks down by a jealousy fit from them. The mere thought of losing you to another, for you to love someone else and let them touch you drives them mad, so they make a statement.

-By statement means they lock you in their room and spend hours teaching you not to stray away from your partners. By the end of it, your sweating, clothes tore open and there's not a single trace of skin they haven't marked. Bites, hickeys, bruises. They just let out all their anger and frustration on you.

-The aftercare and morning after is immaculate tho. They feel a bit guilty for how rough they were and make sure to treat you like a princess.

NSFW part ahead, beware❗

-They may be switches but with you, oh boy, you don't have any power in it.

-You have a safeword established and they will stop immediately if you don't want it anymore, but that's it. They have full control over you and your body.

-They worship your whole being, but they have their favourite spots. For Minho is your ass, neck and boobs. For Jisung is your hips, boobs and thighs. They have small competitions to see who leaves the most marks or whose mark are bigger. Your body ends up covered in splashes of red, purple and yellowish.

-They only times they let you be on top is to ride one of them when the other is behind you. They still control your moves and you're basically a doll for them to move around.

-Literally. While you guys are fucking, you're treated like a toy by them, a pair of wet, tight holes for them to fill and play with until they get tired of it (they never but you guys needs to rest from time to time).

-Minho is a sucker from going at you from behind while Jisung is underneath you, both thrusting into you from their positions while you're trapped between them, just taking whatever they give you. Their hands are never too long in one place, constantly roaming all over your skin to feel you up. When he's about to cum, Minho grabs into your boobs and hides his face on your neck, getting drunk on your scent, while Jisung hugs your hips and hides his face in your cleavage, licking the traces of swear that run down of it. They love cumming on their preferred spots to see their essence covering your skin, but if you're on birth control, the only way they're cumming is inside you.

-When they heard the concept of "double penetration", they knew they needed to try it, so they spent HOURS prepping you until they knew you could fit them both there. It was the first time the three of you orgasmed at the same time. The pleasure of feeling your walls closing them in and their dicks rubbing against each other with each movement was mind-blowing. It's a bit painful, so you guys only do it on special occasions.

-If they're still idols in this, you bet they have brought you backstage to fuck you in the the private rooms assigned for the group. Dressing rooms? Bathroom? The music station?? Done, done and done. You're their reward for a good performance or a stress reliever of the're not satisfied with the result.

-Mandatories quickies before stage. They say it's their "lucky charm" (which is a lie because there's usually another quicky after stage).

-The couches from the practice room? Jisung's studio? Yes and yes.

-You visited them once during practise to be a good girlfriend and bring them snacks during their break, and they thanked you by fucking you in front of the mirrors and fogging them. It was a sight to see.

-Another recurrent one is going to Jisung's studio and riding him in his seat or give him a blowjob while he works.

-Cockwarming it's not a kink, it's a necessity.

-And it's never just one of them, oh no. You have to keep both of them warm. Let it be each one in a hole or having both in your cunt. It's not always sexual, they're just pussydrunk and can't go a day without playing with it.

-When they feel in a rather possessive mode, they mark you and then you guys go out and you're forbidden from trying to hide it. They make you wear skirts that barely conceal the hickeys on your inner thighs, tops that don't reach your neck, leaving those purple bruises exposed. They get off from people watching them and realising you're taken.

-Outside the bedroom it might seem that you're in charge, since they behave like total babies with you and have to look after them. But if people look closely, they can see Jisung's firm hand on your waist, never letting you go. Or Minho occasionally brushing his hand on the expanse of your neck with a concentrated look in his eyes. They'll notice how you're never by yourself and one of them is always touching you somehow, keeping you glued to their side.

-In short, having Minsung as lovers would be a wild ride, full of passion and intensity. It's not a kid's game, since they're complicated people in their own right and you're still figuring out where this would lead, but one thing is clear.

-They're never letting you go.

If you want something specific or want me to change something, please let me know! I'd love to see more opinions.

#hope you liked it #my first time doing this #I lost count how many times i rewrote this #i'm still not completely satisfied but I think i did good #it was supposed to be a short thing but well i lost control #poly minsung #minsung x reader #lee know/han jisung x reader #lee know smut #han jisung smut #skz smut #asks #request

[lassieposting]

So like. I've seen plenty of posts discussing CatNap's death scene, the Prototype's involvement, and whether CatNap was betrayed by his mentor or willingly sacrificed himself, but there's one detail that nobody seems to be talking about. So imma bring it up, because it's relevant, it's important, to the point that we might actually only be seeing half the interaction between them.

Prototype is telepathic.

Or at least, he's something similar. It's strongly hinted at throughout his story:

Prototype manages to befriend Theo, despite the fact that he's kept locked in the labs under constant surveillance. Theo's artwork implies he believed Prototype lived under his bed. It also shows that he was - at least partially - aware of what Prototype looked like, as he drew an accurate representation of Prototype's mechanical arm. So how were they communicating? Likely via telepathy, with Prototype reaching out to Theo from the confines of his cell, and possibly projecting an image of himself for Theo to interact with. Theo feels safe with the fearsome-looking Prototype when they meet in person, which would suggest that Prototype is, by then, a familiar face.

Prototype's influence is clear in the video tapes, such as the instructions for moving a Bigger Bodies toy or the Emergency Alert video - he overrides the original content with new instructions like "RELEASE THE GIANT" or "OPEN THE DOORS. THE HOUR OF JOY IS NOW." And it's implied that this "tampering" came hand-in-hand with some kind of telepathic hold on the Playtime workers - they do release Kissy, against all common sense, despite the original instructions being visible beneath Prototype's override, and at the cost of their lives. It makes me think that the "tampering" is actually more of a side effect - that the control Prototype is projecting is so strong that he affects not only the minds of the workers he's targeting, but also any communication media within range - the messages on the VHS tapes are the orders he was pushing into their brains, flash-framed on film. Perhaps, if a worker had picked up a phone to call for help, they would only have heard a cacophony of voices insisting release the giant release the giant release the giant.

DogDay mentions that he and the other Smiling Critters - minus CatNap - "tried to resist [Prototype's] control". It's said in a way that suggests that Bigger Bodies who weren't fully on board with the Hour of Joy were... let's say "encouraged"...to participate, willing or no, via a helpful jolt of Assuming Direct Control. Given how docile she is most of the time, this could also be true of Kissy, who we see joining in with the massacre.

At the end of Chapter Three, the player joins Poppy on an elevator to go confront the Prototype in his lair. Which is weird, because...we know he's not in his lair. We've just seen him kill CatNap, and by this point we know he's likely been tailing us for a while. The Player would know, as they got onto that elevator, that Prototype can follow them down and trap them. But they say nothing to Poppy, their apparent ally. They don't warn her. Why? Maybe Prototype isn't letting them. If he could reach Theo in Playcare from the labs, deep in the bowels of the factory, it's not unreasonable to suggest that he's also in our head, subtly monitoring our thoughts, gently nudging away any desire to raise concerns with Poppy - who, as we know, wants Prototype dead.

So anyway: we know that Prototype has some variety of telepathy. And we know he has a preexisting connection with Theo - now CatNap.

Now, onto the actual death.

Lots of people have already covered the popular theories - that CatNap willingly offered himself to his god, and that CatNap believed the Prototype had come to save him and was cruelly betrayed. But honestly, on first watching, neither of those were the vibe I got. So I'm gonna throw my theories into the ring.

1) CatNap's death was a mercy kill

The first was that it was a mercy kill. CatNap is, at the end of the chapter, electrocuted to the point of collapse, and then horribly burned. There are no scientists left who can tend to the injuries of a Bigger Body creature. CatNap would be in horrifying pain, and if - as I've theorized here - Prototype all but raised CatNap, it could be that the death he provides is intended to put a quick end to CatNap's suffering. A mortally wounded apex predator will often become the target of groups of smaller, subordinate predators - like the swarming Critters in CatNap's territory - once they are dying and unable to defend themselves. Severing the spinal cord and targeting the brain would take away the pain, and make sure the death was as close to immediate as possible. If he'd wanted to hurt or punish CatNap, he could very easily have done so in a far more agonizing way - Miss Delight says that CatNap reports to Prototype, so they seem to be in relatively regular contact with each other and CatNap has few or no reservations about entering Prototype's territory to see him.

From this perspective, it also becomes interesting that Prototype reaches down to CatNap through a vent it's highly unlikely he could fit into, rather than fully appearing in front of us. Bearing in mind their mental connection, left open in the background of their minds, this could actually be seen as Prototype having an understandable and realistic caregiver panic response to CatNap's sudden, all-consuming agony - he wants to get to CatNap as quickly as possible, and he's picked a physically problematic route because it's faster.

2) CatNap's death was the Prototype fixing a problem he created

It's a sad truth that our children - or, in the Prototype's case, the young friend he assumed responsibility for - don't always grow into people we're proud of.

I've talked before about the Prototype's "parenting" as a positive influence on CatNap, and in several ways, it is - relative to the world they're trapped in.

CatNap is spared from the utter social isolation other experiments endure - he has Prototype to play and socialise with, which allows him to grow up with improved social skills and better ability to read people.

CatNap has a protector during the early years of the food shortage, once the toys begin turning on one another. Theo is shy and gentle, not naturally inclined to violence, so Prototype's protection probably shields him from becoming someone else's lunch at least once.

CatNap has someone to teach him to fend for himself. While Prototype's digestive system is vestigial - he doesn't need to eat to survive - he's an accomplished killer and it seems as though CatNap learned many of his hunting techniques from his mentor. It's likely that he would have learned to hunt the way young animals do - at first, Prototype hunts and kills all his food for him. Then Prototype brings back mostly-dead prey for CatNap to finish off. Then CatNap starts practicing his skills on small prey under Prototype's supervision, growing in confidence and competence until he no longer needs help, and then until he's fully self-sufficient.

But let's face it, Prototype is not exactly the world's most well-adjusted or morally upstanding individual. He's been imprisoned for decades. Tortured. Experimented on. He's deeply traumatised, his worldview irrevocably twisted in the name of survival. He's got a documented history of violence and as-yet-unquantified psychic abilities - the telepathy - that could be wreaking absolute havoc on his psyche. And CatNap is a young, impressionable mind who idolises him.

Now, we don't know how Prototype feels about the cult that's sprung up around him. It's entirely possible that he's thriving on it, that he's bought into his own mystique and begun to see himself as a god with the factory as his domain. @hrhowling came up with a fantastic theory along these lines, where CatNap's death is posed as a reward for faithful service - the opportunity to become part of his god and achieve immortality. A show of favour towards a loyal high priest. And if Prototype does appreciate the worship, honestly, this seems the most likely scenario to me.

But it's also just as possible that he's...not a fan.

It's a popular theory that "Ollie" is the Prototype, known to be a vocal mimic, using a child's voice to win the Player's trust. I vibe with this theory - Ollie's speech and tone is...not quite right, and there are multiple points where he sounds like his sentences are made up of different audio clips stitched together - stitched neatly, admittedly, but stitched nonetheless. That's very similar to the way we see Prototype stitching together words in different voices in his interview tape. Ollie's stitching is far less noticeable, but Prototype has had a long time to practice, and he's using the same voice - probably Theodore Grambell's, the child he's most familiar with - so it's not as obvious.

But if Ollie is the Prototype, that sheds a very different light on his character in general. Ollie is helping the Player. Ollie is known to Poppy and Kissy as an ally. Ollie opens up about CatNap, his history with the Prototype, and expresses obvious distaste around CatNap's religious zeal and tendency to kill anyone who opposes his mentor. If Ollie is the Prototype, it seems a lot more like he's a tired old soldier who's been made the unwilling messiah of a cult driven by isolation and insanity.

To add on to this, it's notable that Prototype doesn't seem to be hostile to the other experiments. In fact, his territory would likely be the safest place in the factory for the very small toys - with CatNap grown, he has no need to hunt or eat them, and although he's quite capable of killing anything in the factory, he seems to have no interest in attacking other Bigger Body apex predators. MLL openly hates and fears him, but Prototype has let her be for ten years, only coming to claim her once she's killed. He's openly benevolent to Huggy and CatNap. The only place we ever know him to have aimed his violence is at the scientists tormenting him and the children.

So yeah. Maybe he actually doesn't approve of CatNap's harcore religious leanings. Maybe he's disappointed at how their relationship has shifted over the years, from friendship to surrogate family to reluctant god and fanatical high priest. Maybe he's guiding and helping the Player in the hopes of finally putting an end to their collective imprisonment and misery. And when CatNap snaps - let's be honest, he does make it clear that the Player is intruding and gives them multiple warnings and opportunities to Get Out Of His Home Or Else - and tries to kill the Player, Prototype can't let that happen. He's forced to make a horrifying choice - the kid he loves the bones of, the only friend he had at his lowest points, or the instrument of his ultimate goal.

And we know the Prototype. He's willing to do terrible things in the name of what he believes is right. He massacred innocents along with the guilty during the Hour of Joy. He tells CatNap it's okay, he's done well, he can rest now...

And he does what has to be done.

3) CatNap's death was requested by CatNap

Let's be honest. CatNap is not doing well after that confrontation. He's probably mortally wounded, and he's facing a slow and agonizing death from - if not the player - his burns or his weakness or his inability to defend his own territory. I would not be surprised if the silent conversation between him and the Prototype involved CatNap asking his idol, his god, to please make the pain stop. To end it, quickly and cleanly. I think that would be a reasonable ask from anyone covered head to toe in terrible burns. And in this scenario, knowing there is no doctor that can treat, heal or gently euthanise CatNap, it would honestly be crueller for the Prototype to refuse him.

Anyway yeah I just. Think there's a lot of missing context added by remembering that Prototype is a telepath, and there is probably a conversation going on with CatNap before he dies. So this is my take on three different ways the death scene could be read.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime meta #poppy playtime headcanons #the prototype #experiment 1006 #catnap #smiling critters #theodore grambell

[spencersties]

Distraction - S. R.

Gif is by @fightingdragonswithwho

A/N: Hi, here's the delayed one shot I promised a couple of days ago, hope you guys enjoy it. Also, writing in Spencer's is always so much more fun to me for some reason.

Content/Warnings: meet-cute ish?, sleep deprived spencer (what's new there), fluff

Word count: 839

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spencer hadn’t slept very well. he couldn’t explain why. it wasn’t the usual case of nightmares that endured after what he considered to be a failed case, or the too big an interest in a book that had him telling himself he’d only read one more chapter before being swept up in reading for hours. last night, his thoughts just seemed to…not shut off. it was as though they had found a mind of their own, messy and unpleasantly constant.

it usually wouldn’t have been that big of a problem, spencer was no stranger to being unable to get a good night’s rest, partially because of his own mind, and partially because of his job. however, this time, the thoughts hadn’t shut off after the sun rose and he made himself the first cup of coffee for the day. if anything, they had gotten stronger, louder. he was starting to think about whether his attention would be good enough to deal with the day and the surely nasty case ahead.

as he walked up to the overly familiar elevator doors of the FBI headquarters in virginia, he did his best to snap himself out of it. tried to focus on one thing at a time.

the elevator. the first elevator was built back in the 18th century, 1743 to be exact, for king louis XV of france, it was human powered and counter weighted and…

his thought trailed off as a reminder of the tasks he had been slacking off doing around his house popped into his brain instead. followed up by a list of books he had recently bought and not yet gotten around to reading. a recollection of the book he read last night. singular. because he was distracted.

just like he was right now.

shit.

if it kept on going like this, spencer wouldn’t be able to get through the day while being of any real use to the team.

what he needed was an all-consuming distraction. something to focus on when his mind started to inevitably wander throughout the day.

the doors to the elevator finally opened and spencer stepped in, huffing out a tired breath as he pressed the button for the 6th floor, followed by the one marked ‘CLOSE DOORS’. of course, the doors didn’t even budge.

he rubbed his eyes and pressed the button again. and again. and again. until eventually he was repeatedly pressing an elevator button with furrowed brows and an annoyed glint in his eyes. just as the doors finally began to close, he saw you.

you were rushing towards the elevator, a satchel bag that matched his slung over one shoulder.

“hold the doors please.” you called out as you neared him.

he blinked, confused at your presence for a moment, and reached out his hand, halting the doors’ slow movement and causing them to open back up.

you stumbled into the small metal box, slightly out of breath and looked at the keypad of elevator floor buttons before clicking on the number 6 even though it was already pressed.

then you looked at spencer. he noticed your eyes first, they seemed to sparkle to him for some reason. he rubbed at his own eyes, making sure his overworked and over exhausted wasn’t imagining things. before he had the chance to inspect you more thoroughly, you began to speak.

“nice bag.” you were looking at the satchel bag on his own shoulder, a small smile on your face.

instead of saying thank you or you too, like any normal person would, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“did you know that scottish monks used to use leather satchels to carry around handwritten bibles that they considered precious?” which was followed by “you’re new.” after a few moments of silence from the both of you. spencer had never wanted to face palm himself quite as badly as he did just then.

surprisingly to him, you let out a laugh.

“no, no I didn’t. and yes, yes I am.”

“I’m spencer. reid.”

He listened to you tell him your name and watched you extend your hand.

perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the sudden confusion he had felt at your existence but he shook your hand.

your hands were warm and soft and spencer didn’t even realise what he was doing until you looked down at his hand covering yours. he pulled his hand away quickly, mumbling something about germs and how he didn’t usually shake hands and he didn’t quite know what had gotten into him. you just gave him a smile in response.

soon enough the elevator doors opened at the sixth floor, spencer looked around for a couple seconds. he hadn’t even realised that the elevator had started moving.

“see you later spencer” you said and walked out, throwing him one more smile over your shoulder.

as he entered the space of the floor he worked on and watched you walk away, he had a realisation.

spencer had found his perfect distraction.

Request to be on my taglist

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #criminalminds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid blurb #bau team #vikswriting

[astromechas]

Okay YES this is great, but as a stupid FeMC fan, I have some things to say:

*assuming the leaks and rumors are true, and based on how they got “ReLOAD” correct, let’s just roll with it.

This was Atlus’ opportunity to create a definitive version of Persona 3. Like THIS IS THE ONE TO PLAY, not FES, not P3P, THIS. Fresh with all the content, not a story beat missing, everything.

Visual upgrade? Of course. Everything looks stunning, on par with Persona 5, which was exactly what everyone was hoping for as far as the visual fidelity of the game goes.

So why, Atlus? Why would you choose not to include FeMC? (or are they?) ( potentially delusional rant incoming but tldr; it would be stupid of them to cut her )

Atlus admitted years ago during the pre-release period of Q2 that the inclusion of FeMC provided their biggest boom for pre-orders in that game. The devs openly stated in an interview that they did not expect her trailer to create so much hype around the game, which ultimately resulted in their sales marking at a higher number than anticipated.

Then there was Atlus’ decision to port P3P over FES to the next console generation. Some people speculated that such a decision was indicative of Atlus’ intentions not to include her in the remake, thus P3P being players’ only chance to play as her. Which I call BS. Why would Atlus make the dumb ass decision to tell on themselves and say "Hey, see this content here? Yeah fuck you, we’re cutting it from the remake!”

It’s especially suspect considering for some people, that port of P3P might’ve been their first EVER experience with P3. I know a lot of us have been fans for a long time, but for some people, that slew of ports was their first opportunity to dip their toes into the franchise. Imagine how shocked those people will be with they play the remake only to find a whole route of content cut.

And lastly, Atlus’ constant promotion of FeMC during the 25th anniversary, following their decision to wholly cut her from the 20th anniversary five years prior.

All of this feels like Atlus’ desperate attempt to remind people that FeMC exists (not that we needed their help) when they could’ve just as easily ported FES to next gen consoles, excluded her from the 25th anniversary, and focused fully on making sure the usual MC remained at the forefront of people’s minds.

Finally, I think its important to remember two points: Atlus hasn’t officially announced this game, and it’s slated release period is Q1 2024, leaving plenty of marketing time before the game comes out.

I think it’s perfectly reasonable for Atlus to throw all of their marketing into the original MC, showing him off, giving him all the bells and whistles to kick start the hype, and then reveal FeMC at a later date. Other ‘anime-esque’ game devs do exactly the same: Caligula, Honkai: Star Rail, etc.

Just because this initial trailer doesn’t include her doesn’t mean she’s been cut entirely. I truly think Atlus knows all too well how much she means to some fans (and how much money they could potentially lose by not including her) for them to completely exclude her from the remake.

With that being said, if all’s said and done and she still isn’t there, believe me, I won’t be playing ReLOAD on day one. Partially because I’m bitter, but also because I don’t have $60-70 USD to be spending on a game that excludes one of my most precious video game characters.

#I'M DELUSIONAL #I WILL LIVE IN DENIAL UNTIL THE DAY IT RELEASES #also excuse typos and misnomenclature i typed this while really high on emotions and i did not proof read #Persona 3 #persona 3 reload #persona 3 remake #persona 3 fes #persona 3 portable #p3 #p3 reload #p3 remake #kotone shiomi #hamuko arisato #p3 femc

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 21] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 10.3k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Epilogue

[Library]

 Chapter 21 - Landfall

“You know we don’t have to open it tonight, right?” You’ve noticed Bradley has been eyeing the box with a sort of nervous apprehension—his eyes flicking back and forth while you eat, still seated on the floor.

It feels like that’s the best place with zero pretense instead of sitting on the sofa, or god forbid across from each other at the table. “It can always wait.” 

That’s not to say you are not dying to know what’s in the box and why Bradley brought it. But you shouldn’t push it—especially not today. Everything still feels raw, precarious almost.

But still, Bradley took the massive first step in trying to fix the situation between you, and give you what you had been asking for him. Pushing him more right now wouldn’t be fair.

It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed. Bradley kept his suffering locked away for so long, and carried the burden of his traumas by himself while directing you away from it. Now he’s made the conscious decision to let you in.

All you can really do now is listen to him and support him in the way that he needs you to. And no matter how hard it might be for you, that also means backing off sometimes.

Bradley shakes his head in response. “I want to,” He looks at you with those warm dark eyes, still full of pain. “Because I want to make sure there’s not a doubt left in your mind that I’m giving every part of me to you before I leave.”

You can’t help but blush under his intense gaze.

“You’re really all or nothing, aren’t you?” You smile before turning serious. “But Bradley, I don’t want you to hurt yourself on my account like that. I don’t want you to tear yourself apart because you think this needs to be fixed completely, like, right now.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, you add: “I don’t doubt you. And I’ll be here when you come back, waiting for you. And the box will be here too.” 

“I don’t want to lose my nerve.” Bradley admits sighing lightly. You sit in silence for a moment, contemplating.

“Then, let’s do it.” You conclude, smiling up at Bradley. “Let's get rid of the pizza boxes first, though. Do you want another beer?”

“Are you sure you’re done?” Bradley looks at you somewhat skeptically as you get up from the floor. “You ate less than half of your pizza.”  

“Oh, yeah—I’m pretty full.” You shrug. 

Truth is, as that pizza was the first big meal you’ve had in about a week, the three odd slices you had made you feel overly full. You only started feeling hungry after the enormous dark pit in your stomach finally dissolved—because this is not the end. This is a challenge you need to overcome. And together you will.

“Are you okay?” Bradley’s words are pointed, not accusatory in any way, but worried. “We haven’t really talked about—well, my week was absolute shit.” 

You chuckle humorlessly. “Well… same here.” 

Obviously, you hadn’t been okay. At all. Like, Bradley is probably too much of a gentleman to say anything, but between the bruise, bags under your eyes, messy hair, and pallid skin, you look at least partially as shitty as you’ve been feeling.

You pushed yourself through the days at work, numbed by a near-constant stream of music, podcasts, and movies, collapsing in your bed the moment you came home, exhausted beyond belief. Yeah, it sure as shit didn’t help you could barely keep anything down, the corrosive feeling in your stomach pretty much locking you up from the inside.

“But I’m okay now.” You assure Bradley with a small smile, before adding teasingly: “If you give me a kiss, I’ll feel even better, actually.” 

You lean in, bending at the waist and resting your hands on Bradley’s broad shoulders for stability. With a playful grin, he obliges you, pressing his lips against yours. 

“It’s making me feel better, too.” He murmurs against your mouth softly. You squeeze, feeling Bradley’s muscles move under your fingers. You’ve missed him so much, but your kisses don’t go any further than that. You can feel his hesitancy—he’s not done with his bloodletting yet.

He still thinks there is a chance you won’t want him anymore. It’s pretty clear to you that this is just as much for himself as he says it’s for you. He needs to confront his past to start making his own peace with it; only then can he move past it.

And you will let him take the lead as long as you keep going forward, supporting him every step of the way.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You good, babe?” You half-whisper, eyes closed, reveling in his proximity.

“Much better, darlin’.” Bradley murmurs back, his voice deep and rough. It sends a jolt down your spine. 

Not the time.

Putting the pizza boxes in the kitchen and grabbing two more beers, you sit back down on the floor next to Bradley. He’s fidgeting, peeling the label off his nearly empty drink.

You pop the new bottles open, offering him one. In a single swig, he empties the beer he had been nervously handling, setting it back on the small coffee table off the side before accepting the new bottle.

Reaching out, he pulls the box closer so it sits just between both your legs. His hand rests on the lid for a moment. 

“Do you want to open it?” You quirk your eyebrow at Bradley’s sudden request. Gently putting your hand over his, you shake your head with a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Your instinct keeps telling you to help him, ease his discomfort, and carry the brunt of the situation because you know you’ll be able to handle it. You would do anything to lighten his burden, but some things are not up to you. You understand now this is not one of them. There’s no need to tell him—he knows—he needs to do this. 

As Bradley slides off the lid, you can’t help but lean forward to get a good look at the contents of the box. The entirety is messily filled to the brim with pictures and what looks like albums. Some seem to be thrown in haphazardly on top of the rest, edges bent and damaged from being jostled. 

“Oh…” The sound escapes you involuntarily as you realize what’s on the pictures. They are family pictures. Bradley’s family. Your heart clenches for a second—Bradley really took your words to heart.  

“It’s ehm-,” Bradley hesitates for a moment, clearing his throat, searching for words. “These are all the pictures I have left from my family.” 

Your head snaps to look at him—Bradley is looking forlornly at the pile of pictures, fingers tracing one that is on top before grabbing it. He studies it for a second, and then wordlessly shows it to you. Your eyes flicker over the picture before returning to his face. 

“I don’t really—I have no idea what to do with this.” He admits with a deep sigh. “I wanted to show you, but now that I opened it…” Bradley trails off.

“Is that you with your little league team?” You smile up at him kindly, pointing at the picture in his hand. “Where was that taken?”

You gently guide his hand closer to you both, so you can look at the photo better. There’s a gaggle of kids in the picture, all still very young in cute and messy little baseball uniforms.

“I - I think that’s still back in San Diego.” He starts hesitantly. “I think I was too young for little league there, that must be something like the local tee ball team.” 

“Which one are you? — Wait, don’t tell me. I want to see if I can guess.” 

Having faced a myriad of difficult decisions and situations in his life, Bradley didn’t think he’d view opening a box of old pictures as such a hurdle. His heart is beating loudly, and he has to consciously keep his hands steady.

He hasn’t really thought it through, and he hadn’t really prepared—he barely remembered what was in the box, or what state it was in. What was he actually going to do with this?

Somewhere, having to go through those pictures was always going to happen, but he’s been putting it off for so many years now that he can barely believe the moment is here.

But for one thing, he knows he can rely on you. Your kindness, your empathy. Your love. You wouldn’t let him struggle through this by himself. Like now. With gentle questions, you steer his thoughts away from anxiety and focus on the small things. 

You keep guessing wrong which kid he could be, picking ones that have darker hair. Not being able to keep a small grin off his face, he points to the small and skinny kid squinting against the sun in the second row. 

“No.” You look at him with comical disbelief. “You were not that blond as a child.”

You scoot closer to him as you bring his hand with the picture up to your face.

“That’s a trick of the light though, isn’t it?”

“Nope. Wait, I’m sure there’s more in here.” Bradley grins despite himself. “I think there might be a whole baby album.”

“Well, I for sure need to see that.”

Bradley leans forward, casually rifling through the pictures at the top of the box. Not being able to stop yourself, you spring up to stop him.

“Bradley, the pictures will get damaged like that.” You admonish him mildly as you carefully pick them up one by one and setting them aside. “Your memories deserve to be handled with care, don’t you think?” 

“You’re right.” He concedes as he feels his heart do a strange little jump. It’s almost painful, but it gives Bradley a strange feeling of elation. Back when he was moving around a lot from his childhood home to college, to boot camp to his first station, he simply consolidated all pictures into this box without much thought.

And here you are, carefully picking every picture up and arranging them in neat little piles on the floor next to the box. The gentleness of the gesture feels deeply intimate. Like you give every snapshot of his life a little bit of attention as you handle it with so much respect. Kindness. Love.

A kind of mercy he hasn’t allowed himself in all these years.

Much more carefully, he pulls out the baby blue album. His baby album. In all these years, he didn’t think he’d actually be looking through that again. That’s a thing for moms to do, right? Show every embarrassing childhood picture to your girlfriend and tell them every awful story.

For a second, Bradley thinks about Mav - he knows so many stories. He was there for them for all those years. As were many others that flew with his dad, although not as much. 

In the end, Mav was there for more stories of them than his own dad was. His mom was there for all of them—well, almost all of them. Some teenage mistakes Bradley would rather take to the grave, and would be more than happy if Mav did too.

Throwing up riding on the back of Mav’s motorcycle when he got too drunk for the first at a house party at the age of 15 would be one of those. Mav had laughed at him so hard, Bradley was sure would never live that one down. In all fairness, he never told Bradley’s mom what happened. He just got Bradley home.

Bradley leafs through the baby album, your chin on his shoulder, loving the little notes his mom made. The first plate of spaghetti (it was a massacre), the first time on a swing (never wanted to get off), first day at preschool on base (many tears), on the pier waiting for daddy to come home.

“You look so annoyed there.” You chuckle, pointing at the picture of a 3-year-old Bradley holding a scrunched-up welcome home sign in his little fists, barely dried tears staining his rosy cheeks.

“Oh man.” Bradley laughs lightly. “All I remember from that is we just stood there on the pier—it took forever, and it was so hot that day.” 

He pauses, trying to remember.

“I begged for an ice cream and my mom would tell me it’s a little bit longer; we had to wait for dad.” He reminisces. “That must have been the longest carrier docking in all history.” 

You giggle, thinking back to the past summer. Waiting for the carrier to dock and the sailors to disembark was tortuous under the summer sun for you, let alone for a small child.

“The next time I remember waiting like that…” Bradley trails off, suddenly deep in thought. “My dad never walked off the carrier.”

You hold your breath for a second.

“Only Mav came back.” Bradley swallows. “I could barely understand why we were there. Why we were leaving without dad.” 

“That must have been really hard.” 

“I mean—I don’t know… I was so young, it took me a while to comprehend my dad really wasn’t coming back.” Bradley has a pensive look on his face, as he stares at the far end of the room rather than at the album in his hands. “I remember much more vividly suddenly having to move out of our house, going out of state, living in a smaller place just together with my mom.” 

“How old were you?”

“Barely four. I think?” He shifts uncomfortably. It was easy to talk about the light stuff, although it always inevitably leads to dark memories. His dad not coming home, his mom always crying, moving away. Exactly the things he doesn’t like thinking about.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You supply sincerely. God, his dad died so young. 

“‘S okay” Bradley mumbles. 

“Is that why you never wanted me to wait for you at the pier?” You inquire carefully, remembering Bradley’s exact argument of it being too hot and too boring.

“Yeah, no—a bit, I guess. But, no one had ever been waiting for me, you know?” He leans his forehead against the heel of his hand. “I went through all those rites of passage in the Navy by myself, just me. I thought I was fine with that.”

You regard him carefully as he still stares ahead, but you’re not sure he actually sees anything.

“I mean, none of my friends or girlfriends ever came. Sure as shit never invited them.” He just drops that casually into the conversation as you feel your eyebrows pull into a slight frown. “I guess none of them were tenacious enough,” 

His eyes finally meet yours as he grins.

“Or pigheaded enough to just go find everything out and show up.” 

You scoff lightly, a grin pulling at the side of your mouth. “You say that as if you didn’t want me to be there.” 

“No, no, darlin'—I fucking loved it.”  

“Do you think you are that undeserving?” Your question cuts sharply through the conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“You say I was pigheaded for showing up, but you were just as pigheaded for not inviting me—or anyone for that matter.” You cock an eyebrow. “So don’t you think you deserve anyone to wait for you?” 

Bradley sighs heavily.

“I suppose—I guess because there might be a day I don’t walk off that ramp, and I thought it would be easier if no one is waiting.”

“You believe that to be the inevitable outcome?” You intone mildly.

“No, no—I just…” You can tell by his manner, Bradley is getting frustrated.

You’re digging. 

Back off.

Let him take the lead.

“I’ll wait for you here at home or on the pier—wherever you want me to be.” You sooth. 

“I’m sorry.” Bradley apologizes softly. “I don’t mean to be so dark about it.”

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” You reply. “We don’t have to talk about it now. We have plenty of your pictures to go through.” You joke lightly, before adding more solemnly: “And we’re here for each other. That matters.”

“That’s all that matters” Bradley replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

For a few moments of silence, you look through the next pages of the album. Bradley’s mom’s neat script shortly commentates every milestone. She clearly took a lot of care in making the album and took pictures prolifically.

Back then—before the age of video calls and digital photography—you suppose it was the only way to document everything that had been happening at home while Bradley’s dad was away.

“Your mom is so pretty.” You lightly trace the edge of the photo, adding: “I can see where you got your looks from.” 

Bradley chuckles in response. “You should see my dad—wait -” He leans forward to grab another album from the box. As he lifts it out, pictures slide from the pages, falling out of the bottom. You quickly sit up, helping Bradley tilt the album on its side, so the pictures top falling.

“For fuck’s sake.” He sighs, annoyed. 

You pluck the pictures that fell out of the box. They are wedding pictures of Bradley’s parents—they look resplendent, both dressed in white, smiling broadly. They are an incredibly good-looking couple. It strikes you how much Bradley looks like his dad—tall, generous smile, and of course the mustache. He looks dashing in his Navy whites, the same way Bradley does.

“You really look a lot like your dad.” You say pensively. “But I definitely see your mom in you too.”

“Mav used to tell me how much I resembled my dad when I was growing up.” Bradley carefully cracks open the album to straighten some loose photos. “I always took a lot of pride in that. Recently, he mentioned my temper is definitely my mom’s.” He chuckles dryly.

Carefully, you tuck one of the photos that fell out between the empty page. “Do you agree?”

“My mom…she—she always kept up a brave face.” Bradley shrugs somewhat uncomfortably. “She would never get really mad or sad, even though… she was. She would always hide it from me.” He slowly leaves through the album, eyes running over the pictures of the happy couple. “All the way to the end.”

Bradley pauses for a moment, as you tuck the other picture that fell out on another empty page.

“I overheard my mom and Mav have an absolute blow-up argument at the hospital. That was months before she passed away— I’ve never heard her so angry, like, screaming at each other. They stopped arguing the moment I walked into the room.” 

“I was nearly 18, not really a kid anymore, but mom never told me what they argued about. And even then, she would only cry when she thought I couldn’t hear.”

“It sounds like she was trying to protect you.” You supply kindly.

“I think she bottled everything up to the point of explosion.” Bradley sounds distant. “I guess I’m kind of the same way.”

“I still think…” Bradley swallows before continuing. “I believe that she never really got over my dad’s death. Mom would look at these pictures every day in the hospital, and I think she bottled up all her grief for so many years, it broke her heart for good.”

“I’m sorry, that’s really sad.” You say softly.

“I try not to think about it too much.” Bradley shrugs again, in a slightly more agitated manner. “It just makes me think about how she spent all those years grieving by herself and I couldn’t help her… was she ever happy again?” 

There’s no answer to that question.

“I think you can be happy about things even when still feeling the loss, because it’ll always kind of be there, right?” You begin slowly. “And our mom still had you. From what I hear, she clearly loved you a lot, going to great lengths to protect you from her pain. Maybe your happiness became her happiness.” 

“I hope it did.” Bradley sighs. Every page turned, every picture finally uncovered again, is like the weight is slowly rolling off him. Bottling up hurts. And it hurt for so long, the pain became a constant background noise. You’re right, he’s had moments of happiness despite the pain. Becoming a pilot despite the odds. Making it to TOPGUN. Surviving that mission. He’s been happy with you. 

It’s mostly in hindsight that he’s aware of the grief he still has in him at every moment. Bottled up. Closing the wedding album, he traces his fingers over the cover. It’s a matter of perspective.

Ironically, he pushed the happiest memories into a dark corner—literally in the back of his closet—never looking it at them because he couldn’t separate the happiness from the grief. And maybe, they don’t need separating. You’re right, the loss will always be there, but that doesn’t mean the happiness of those moments disappears. 

Ultimately, Bradley is becoming more and more sure of one thing. He couldn’t do this without you. He wouldn’t want to do this without you. Putting away the album, he wraps his arm around your neck, pulling you against him. You easily accept his gesture and lean into the hug, putting your arms around him. 

Bradley realizes that today is the first time in many years he allowed himself to reach out to someone for comfort emotionally and physically and that it was so readily given to him. Finally, the ever-present pain seems to dull.

“Thank you for sharing all this with me.” You whisper against his neck.

“It feels right.” He admits. “Things just feel right with you.”

You can’t help but smile as press yourself into Bradley. You’ve struggled with how… right things feel with Bradley. Always aware with the looming of darkness in the back of your head that this thing might not be more than a blip on the radar. Just a temporary madness. 

Like a knot being pulled loose, a new calmness anchors itself in you. It feels right. You can finally, unequivocally accept that. 

Slowly untangling from each other, you talk about look through one of the pile of pictures. Bradley laughs as he talks about breaking his nose during a training game in middle school baseball after a pitcher from the opposing team nailed him in the face as he was batting. Convinced he did it on purpose, Bradley waited for him after the game and started a fight. Getting a black eye and detention to boot, he elected to call Mav to pick him up and go to the hospital, too embarrassed to call his mom. 

“God, that dude was massive—had at least 50 pounds on me. I have no idea what I was thinking.” Bradley rubs his hand over his eyes, still laughing. 

“What did Mitchell say about it?” You ask, laughing too.

“Mercifully very little—all he told me was to get my temper in check or to get stronger and learn how to fight better.” Bradley grins as he rummages through the box.

“Solid advice.” You drawl sarcastically. Although you haven’t worked with Mitchell much directly, you’ve seen plenty of him in action and his unorthodox method of leadership. You are not at all surprised he would tell a 12-year-old that.

Bradley suddenly stills as his hand comes upon an object of smooth wood. He tries to keep his breathing even - fuck. 

He forgot this was in here.

You notice the sudden shift in Bradley’s demeanor, his hand half-hovering in the box, clutching an oddly shaped box. The moment you catch a glimpse of the dark polished walnut, the realization strikes you. It’s a display case with his father’s funeral flag and medals. Judging from Bradley’s reaction, it’s not a pleasant find.

“I - I -” The words are dying in Bradley’s throat. When he turns to you, you see the panic in his eyes. Carefully, you reach out to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. You don’t speak, leaving Bradley space to sort his thoughts and emotions.

He pulls out the display case, weighing in his hands hesitantly. He sits in silence, looking at the neatly folded flag behind the glass. Bradley swallows heavily, like he wants to say something, but the words won’t come. You rub your hand in soothing circles over his shoulder. You bite your lip to stop yourself from speaking. He needs this.

“My dad was Mav’s RIO.” Bradley’s voice is so soft, so broken, you would have missed his words if you had not been looking at him. “He died ejecting from their aircraft over the ocean.”

You move closer to Bradley. 

“He just didn’t walk off the boat one day.” His fingers run over the wooden sides of the frame. “And I barely remember.”

Bradley pauses to steady himself.

“I don’t know where the stories from my mom and Mav start and my own memories end—like playing the piano. I know my dad used to teach me simple tunes, but I…” He trails off for a moment. “But I remember the piano gathering dust for several years a lot more, and my mom crying when I started taking lessons.”

From the corner of your eye, you see Bradley blink rapidly.

“You know…,” You lick your lips nervously, trying to choose your words with care. It kills you to see him like this. “Memories are just one aspect of remembering. We remember through our actions too.” You turn to look at Bradley. His eyes are wet, as he stubbornly stares at the display case.

“Whether it’s through telling those stories, pictures, or playing the piano,” You continue, voice gentle. “That’s how you keep memories alive.”

Bradley doesn’t reply, eyes still trained of the blue and white of the folded flag, fingers twitching.

In a sudden move, he pulls you against him, practically dragging you from your spot next to him into his lap. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck. His fingers are digging into your flesh as he seems hell-bent on crushing you into him.

You let him.

You run your fingernails through the short hair on the back of his head comfortingly. Bradley is taking shaky breaths, his shoulders jerking lightly..

He can’t remember the last time he cried. Was it as his mom’s funeral? Or some time when he got way too drunk after boot camp? But now he can’t seem to stop himself. The tears just keep coming, like all the pain is suddenly fresh again.

You don’t say anything, and Bradley appreciates that. He presses himself into you like he wants to drown himself in you, trying to focus on your soft breathing to calm himself down. 

You have no words to help Bradley feel better, but sometimes it’s not necessary to speak to offer comfort. So you sit like that together on the floor, wrapped up in each other. Time could have been standing still all around you, and you wouldn’t have noticed. 

Eventually, slowly, Bradley’s breathing evens out. It’s like the atmosphere evens out with it—the final slivers of tension, the precarious balance of emotions and rawness in your hearts— start dissolving around you, leaving only love.

Bradley presses a kiss against your jaw and whispers a thank you. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for, babe.” You chuckle, hugging him a bit tighter against you.

“I’m thankful for you.” He replies sincerely, pressing more kisses against the column of your neck. You pull away a fraction to capture his lips with yours. Lightly biting down on his bottom lip, finally, he tilts his head in such a way that lets you deepen the kiss. You can’t even describe how much you need this: to feel Bradley again.

Gracelessly, you try to get up while guiding Bradley up with you without breaking the kiss. It’s a mess of limbs and hurried movements. You stumble as your foot gives out from under you, nearly falling onto the sofa. Bradley easily catches you.

“Fuck - my foot is asleep.” You wince as the pins and needles shoot up your ankle.

Bradley laughs. Light dances in his eyes as he hoists you up, legs wrapped around his waist. Seeing him like this makes your heart soar.

“Don’t let go of me.” He warns you, still smiling.

“I can’t.” You echo. “I don’t think I ever can.” 

With practiced ease, Bradley steers you both to the bedroom. You’ve spent the evening in the past and you need to get back to the present to ground yourself in each other.

The bedroom is a mess; sheets crumpled, pillows strewn around the bed. But neither of you cares. Bradley gently lays you down on the bed, your legs still hooked around his hips while he rests one knee on the mattress for stability.

His hands run up your sides, bunching up the silk of your blouse. Your breathing gets heavier as you feel his large warm hands through the fabric. Your fingers dance up his forearms, past his elbows, over the rippling muscles of his upper arms, pulling yourself up by his shoulders as you sit up to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

Gently grabbing one of your wrists, Bradley slowly lays you back down. 

“Let me take care of you now, darlin’.” He practically purrs. A giggle escapes you as his lips latch onto the column of your throat, his thumb running over the erratic pulse point on your wrist.

You sigh as you close your eyes, allowing yourself to feel even more. Bradley’s free hand is deftly undoing the buttons of your self-proclaimed armor. Arching your back off the mattress, brushing your bra-clad breasts against his chest, the silk shimmies off your body.

Momentarily leaning back, Bradley easily shrugs off his own shirt as you pull your arms from the sleeves—both garments end up somewhere in the dark of the room. Not missing a beat, you trail kisses up his broad chest towards his neck. Lightly biting down on Bradley’s collarbone, he hisses. You love that sound.

Fingers brushing down his stomach, you feel his muscles move under your feather-light touch as you reach the waistband of his jeans. Before you can do anything else, Bradley swipes your hands away, smoothly bringing them over your head and pinning them down.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips, free hand undoing the button of your slacks, and slipping into your panties. “I’ll take care of you.”

You moan in response. Bradley wastes no time running his fingers up your slit, rubbing your clit at a tortuously slow pace. He knows your body almost as well as you do yourself; keenly feeling when to speed up, add pressure, mapping out every sensitive spot.

Your hands twitch, but Bradley doesn’t yield his grasp on your wrists. His lips travel down from your jaw, over your throat, nipping on your collarbone, down to the lace edge of your bra. The sensation of his hot breath through the thin fabric makes your head spin. You arch your back, trying desperately to maximize contact.

“Plea- please.” You beg in a whisper. Bradley just grins as he gently nips at the flesh of your breast. He has a need a regain control, a push to assure you, but mostly himself, that despite your relationship fundamentally changing with new emotional depths he never explored with anyone like that before, he is still him. 

He plunges two fingers into you, his thumb on your clit finally speeding up. Bradley leans back up just a little, hearing you whimper at the loss of contact, so he can take a good look as your body moves under him—hair mussed, blush spreading down your chest, breathing heavily as you buck up against his hand. 

Fuck, you look so good, you feel so good.

And you’re like that just for him.

Your eyes search Bradley's—pupils blown, dark with desire, a light blush dusts his cheeks—they are filled with warmth. Love. You tilt your hips up, muscles taut, as the pressure starts building in you. Bradley immediately responds to you without needing a single word, knowing exactly what you need: his fingers hooking up in you, moving in tandem with his thumb. It tears an incoherent moan from you.

Finally he releases your wrists and without hesitation your hands tangle into his curls, pulling his mouth to yours non-too gently. As he leans over you, never missing a beat, pumping his fingers in your pussy relentlessly, he uses his other hand to push away the lace of your bra. His fingers immediately pinch and pull your nipple, adding to the building pressure in you.

“Bradley…” You moan unabashedly. His skin is so hot under your touch, everything about him sets you aflame. You buck your hips harder, feeling so close already. Bradley drags his teeth along your collarbone, stopping at the pulse point at your neck, and biting down. 

You scream out in ecstasy, your muscles coiling tight, wrapping yourself around Bradley, pulling him along in your wave. Bradley’s mouth crashes into yours, swallowing your scream. As your cresting wave makes landfall, a calm settles back into your tired bones, and suddenly tears spring up behind your closed eyelids. Bradley is still kissing you deeply, his tongue moving against yours, devouring every thought.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, your teary eyes meeting his for a few seconds. As he hovers above you, you take every bit of Bradley in. Your muddled brain tries to come to a coherent thought, but in the end, you feel it more than you can formulate it.

You are the luckiest girl alive.

Hands moving of their own accord, you reach for Bradley, nails lightly raking down his chest. Bradley pulls you up with him, cradling your face in his hands as he presses a kiss on your lips. You pop the button of his jeans, sliding your hands down his boxer shorts. Grasping his rock hard shaft, you start pumping slowly. Bradley groans as he nibbles your bottom lip.

“I’m not done with you yet, darlin’.” He teases.

You giggle softly. “But I want you.”

Bradley only responds by unclasping your bra and sliding it down your arms. You press yourself against him, wanting to feel him against you. His hand is massaging your breast, tweaking your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Skimming his fingers down your sides, he tugs your slacks and underwear down your legs in one smooth gesture. They end up somewhere in the darkness of the room, along with the rest of your clothes. You push his pants down his thighs—he easily steps out of them and you pull him with you onto the bed.

His hot mouth is on your tits, as you palm his cock. 

“I need you inside me.” You breathe. Bradley doesn’t respond at first, kissing and nipping his way down your body.

“I’m still not done with you.” His breath is hot against your soaking pussy. You whimper, blindly reaching for his hair as his tongue presses against your still-sensitive clit. Hooking your knee over his shoulder, using the leverage to tilt your pelvis just so, you know you’re not going to last very long under his assault. He squeezes your thigh as you tug his hair painfully. You roll your hips against Bradley’s face, setting a much-needed feverish pace. He acquiesces, tongue flicking against your clit without break, tearing a litany of swears from you.

“F- fuck, Bradley - don’t stop,” You beg, breathlessly. “You’re so fucking good.”

His free hand harshly squeezes your breast, pinching and manipulating the nipple as he hums—you feel the deep vibrations go through your core. Your body feels electrified, the pressure building in you from Bradley’s onslaught. He can feel your body stiffening, hips jerking, breath quickening. He knows you’re close, and he wants to pull you over the edge of pleasure.

You are mumbling incoherently, Bradley’s name on your lips like a prayer, as the coil in your stomach is wound almost painfully. Just a little bit more. He is relentless in his mission, tongue lashing against you. Splaying his hand on your lower stomach, Bradley stills your hips, building the anticipation even more.

Just when you think you cannot take it anymore, the coil in you springs. You cannot even begin to care how loud you are right now. Bradley is still holding you down, his mouth buried in your pussy as you cum, moans filling the room.

 It feels like your breath has been ripped from your lungs. You are only vaguely aware of the tears leaking from your screwed-shut eyelids—your brain feels like it has been disconnected from your body completely, static electricity flickering through your veins. 

“Fuck, darlin’…” Bradley is panting. His voice is suddenly close, concerned. “Hey, are you okay?” His finger trails down the wet streak down your cheek.

Slowly opening your eyes, colorful spots filing your vision, you look up at Bradley. You don’t know why there are tears on your face. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, but you aren’t sad in any way.

“I’m okay.” You croak, softly pressing your lips against his, tasting yourself on him. “You just completely blew my mind.” You joke lightly.

“I’ll accept that reason.” Bradley grins. “Do you need a break?”

You shake your head almost petulantly. “No, I need you.” 

“Please.” You add softly, wrapping your arms around his neck. You want Bradley close.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He whispers in your ear. “Anything for you.”

He slides his cock into your slick pussy, drenched in your own cum, in one swift motion, filling you to the hilt. You moan as Bradley swears under his breath.

“Fu- fuck, darlin’, you feel so, so good.” His voice is deep, rough, and so close, his mustache is brushing against the shell of your ear – it’s sending shivers down your spine. 

Bradley sets a slow, almost leisurely pace. He wants to savor this; your blushing face, glassy eyes looking up at him as you wrap yourself around him. Your look of love. This is how he wants you committed to his memory forever, and quietly wishes this would be the look he would see in his dreams.

In the meantime, he will make to be worthy of that look every day. So you will look at him like that every day. Only at him. Your fingers are running down the side of his face, a small smile gracing your lips. He grabs your hand and presses a kiss against your palm before intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing your hand as he rolls his hips against you. 

It feels so intimate. So much more intimate than ever before. 

You always tried to be strong, but you had also shown your vulnerability and insecurities to him. You cried, you were angry, your hands shook when you unbuttoned his shirt. Now that you know him, arguably better than almost anyone else, Bradley cannot help but feel like the axis has tilted. He trusts you. With himself, with his pain and his love.

Admitting and accepting that makes everything so much clearer.

“I love you.” The words come out naturally. It’s a verbalization of what he’s been feeling for a long time now and saying the words is familiar, because really, he’s told you many times in many different ways already, just not with those words.

“I love you too.” You gasp. “S- so much.” 

Leaning on his elbow, fingers still intertwined with yours, Bradley speeds up the pace—his cock driving into you hungrily. Your tits bounce deliciously every time he fills you to the hilt, your hips rising to meet his every move. He missed you so much, he knows he’s not going to last long. 

You feel Bradley’s hips starting to stutter irregularly as he’s speeding up, a light sheen of sweat forming on his brow. Your nails rake over his back, tilting your hips for more friction. Bradley groans, brow furrowed as he searches for release. 

“Will you cum for me?” You encourage sweetly. “Cum for me, Bradley, I need you.”

How can he refuse, when you ask him like that? 

Bradley pounds into you, your moans and his swears filling the room. He squeezes your hand painfully, as he closes his eyes for a moment, never losing the relentless pace.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so close.” He grinds out.

“Please, Bradley -” You beg in a whispery voice. 

Bradley moans loudly, swearing as his movements turn erratic, trusts turning irregular until his hips stutter to a halt. Breathing heavily, he rests his forehead against yours—your breath mingling before his body slowly sinks into yours. Together you lay there in a bubble of contentment, between the messy sheets, clothes strewn around and the chaos of your week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Darlin’, are you awake?”

You blink heavily against the sunlight streaming into the room. You went out like a light last night. Both Bradley and you were so exhausted from everything that happened that week, you pretty much fell asleep on top of each other. You only managed to go to the bathroom before completely conking out, Bradley was already fast asleep by them.

“Wha- what time is it?” You ask, voice thick with sleep. It’s only as you gain some awareness of your surroundings, you notice Bradley is not in bed with you anymore, rather standing next to it, bent over you. He’s dressed in only his boxers, while you are still naked under the covers.

“It’s a little past 11.” He replies, pressing a kiss on your temple. Fuck, that late? “But more pressingly, sweetheart; you don’t have any coffee. Actually, you don’t have much of anything in the house.”

Oops.

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to go shopping.” You mumble, rubbing your eyes.

“And here I was going to make you breakfast.” Bradley teases. “Come on, get up. At least let me take you out.”

“I need to shower,” You yawn, scratching your head. “Ugh, and wash my hair.”

“Well, let’s go take care of that.” Bradley grins, as he scoops you up from the bed, causing you to squeal in delight as you scramble to grab onto him. He effortlessly pulls you up from the bed, the covers still wrapped around you. You laugh together as he carries you out of the bedroom.

The shower take way too long—mostly because you spent less time washing, and more time pinned against the tile wall, moaning in ecstasy. Gasping for breath, wetter from sweat than water and Bradley’s cum dripping down your thighs, you end up kicking him out of the shower. You’re going to be stuck there for the rest of the day and your water bill will be through the roof. He leaves you with a wink.

You make quick work of washing your hair, lathering it with conditioner and shaving for good measure. Hair wrapped in a towel, you get dressed in comfortable jeans and a simple cotton shirt. You’re going to need to blow dry it before you go out—also you should really do your makeup. The bruise is slowly getting over the worst of it, but it’s still pretty visible.

Head bent down, rubbing the towel through your hair, you walk into the living room. From the corner of your eye, you see Bradley sitting on the couch, fully dressed already. “Babe, are we really out of all coffee?” You’re dying for a cup.

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you look up, holding the towel up from your face. Bradley is gingerly holding his parent’s wedding album, carefully moving the loose pictures into place.

 “Do you think it’s fixable?” His voice is quiet. “It was my mom’s favorite album.”

You blink, before rewrapping your hair and sitting down next to him. Carefully, you pick up one of the pictures and inspect it.

“Yeah, I’ve seen this happen a lot with picture collections we get. It looks like the glue disintegrated.” You note as you look at the back of the photo. As you suspect, the glue in the corners has left only brown residue and has long-lost its function. “We do restorations regularly—well not me, per se, I did it as part of my rotations as an intern—but it can be anything from humidity, or just a bad batch of glue…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

“Can you fix it?” 

“Me?” You cannot hide your surprise at his request. “I mean—I can get some of the supplies we use at work.” You regard Bradley carefully. “Do you want me to do that?” 

“Yeah…” He sighs. “I’m kind of… scared I’ll ruin it.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye. “And you’re the archivist here.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not really a conservation specialist, but I’ll do my best.” You reply earnestly. This feels like a pretty serious responsibility. “I’ll get some special glue, and maybe some protective sleeves and smaller boxes to store all the other loose photos, okay?”

You smile lightly at him, feeling a blush creep up. The way Bradley puts his trust in you to care for the last tangible memories he has from his parents gives you butterflies.  “Your mom did such a great job dating all the photos, I can order them for you.” 

You pause for a moment.

“If you want, that is.” You backtrack, unsure. This is not a history project, it’s not an anonymous donation to archives from someone’s estate, these are Bradley’s memories. It should be his choice. “I will do what I can to help you.”

“Thanks sweetheart.” He carefully closes the album. “I trust you completely with this—you know so much better than I how to care for all these things.”

“But they are still your memories.” You say, voice soft. “And in the end, you need to be happy with it.”

“You make me happy.” Bradley replies mischievously. 

“You are impossible.” You grin, as move to get up.

“Impossibly in love with you?” He teases.

Okay. So it would be a complete lie if that doesn’t make your heart jump so hard it’s making your rib cage rattle as blood floods to your cheeks. Regardless of how fucking cheesy that is. 

You try your best to shoot him a withering look, although it probably lacks power. Bradley is trying to get a reaction out of you. You can tell by that cheeky glint in his eye, the way his mouth is pulled in that cocky half-smirk and the casual figure he cuts, leaning back on the sofa; he knows he succeeded.

You just grunt in embarrassment, pulling the towel back over your face as you leg it out the room, leaving Bradley to enjoy his victory. 

Bradley ends up taking you to a diner—which is fine by you, because regular refills on coffee is exactly what you need right now. You slide into a booth together, Bradley immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

If Bradley was tactile before, he’s turned it up to 11 today. Not that you are complaining. It feels like you need to fill up on everything Bradley—like you’ve lost precious time, even if it was just a week—before he leaves again. 

Rationally, you know it’s only a month. He’s been gone for longer. You’ve been through this together. But it suddenly all feels strange again, a little bit apprehension under the surface, as you see your connection in a new light full of new heights and depths. It never felt better, but this time being apart will be different from before.

You eat your breakfast in relative silence—honestly, after the first bite of your blueberry pancakes, you realize how much you are starving. You lean back against Bradley, nursing your coffee.

“Hey babe,” You start, looking up at him through your lashes. “You’re flying out to Texas on Tuesday, right?”

Bradley nods. “Yeah, about that…” He trails off, while he fidgets with his mug. “No, never mind, it’s stupid.”

“What?” You sit up, looking at him curiously. The tips of his ears are red as he avoids your gaze. “Come on, tell me.”

“I’m flying commercial, so I was thinking to change my ticket to fly out of D.C.”

“Won’t that be expensive, changing it so late?” You ask, not unkindly.

“Well-” Bradley hesitates, eyes roaming the room nervously. You are seriously wondering what has him out of sorts like this suddenly. “I was thinking you could drop me off at the airport Tuesday and take the Bronco. You can use it when I’m gone, it’s safer than your car anyway. It would make me feel better if you use my car.” He ends his sentence hurriedly: “And then you could come pick me up again whenigetback.”

Letting out a deep breath, Bradley continues, voice forced light. “But it’s stupid, you have work, and you’re right, it’s probably kind of late to change my ticket.” 

“Hold on.” You cut in, gently placing your hand on his cheek and turning him to face you. “Babe. Do you want me to take you to the airport and pick you up when you get back?”

“Yes.” He replies earnestly. “But it’s such short notice, I don’t want you to get into trouble with work…”

“I’ll handle that, don’t worry.” You smile. “Of all places, the DoD will understand I have to say goodbye to my handsome naval aviator boyfriend because he’s leaving for a month.” 

“I’d love to do that for you. I want to be there for you.” You tell him honestly. “And I’m not saying that just because you’re lending me your car for a whole month.” You add with a grin.

Bradley laughs loudly at that. His eyes crinkle, the apprehension suddenly leaving him. He presses a kiss against your lips. “I’ll be rebooking my ticket then.”

“You do that.” You smile—it means you will have him with you for two more days, instead of him leaving on Sunday already. Sometimes things just work out like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Bradley leaves for Texas, you spent your evenings going through the pictures from the box. Gently cleaning them, tucking them in protective sleeves and ordering them chronologically in new boxes where they won’t be thrown around so much. 

As you clear out the box Bradley left you, you find small trinkets that must have been thrown in at some point. A small plastic soldier, scraps of paper, lots of dust. You clean everything and save everything that might be of worth in an envelope. It’s not up to you to throw anything away.

Stuck in the corner of the box, you find a pair of dog tags that belonged to Bradley’s father. They are smudged and dirty—you have no idea if that’s from being in the dusty box (which was stored god knows where for how long) or this is the way they were returned to the family. 

You want to ask Bradley, but elect to do so when he is back. He calls you almost every day, but you notice his unease when you ask about objects from the box. It’s still difficult for him. And he tries so hard.

So instead, you order a flat, rectangular box through work, once that is specifically used to store small items. You fill it with soft foam, cut to measure, and carefully pin the dog tags into place. Bradley can decide what he wants to do with this later.

It’s late at night, almost halfway through Bradley’s training mission, you find something unexpected. 

It’s a crushed ring box. 

The hinges are rusted and twisted, the top of the box sitting at an awkward ninety-degree angle. It’s empty, the once soft fabric on the outside torn and stained. The button to open the box is loose in the socket, jiggling sadly with every movement.

It mostly likely got torn apart between the heavy albums between different moves, just loosely thrown in, unsecured in any way.

It doesn’t look like it can be salvaged. Not only that, but it’s beyond your skill, that’s for sure. Still, you carefully place it in an envelope. Maybe you can ask someone at work if they know someone (a jeweler? A carpenter? Who actually repairs things like these?), although it looks like a commercially produced box. Getting it restored will probably cost a lot more than getting a new one. But this is not your decision to make. 

More importantly: there is a ring box, but no ring?

You should go to bed. But you cannot resist a good mystery. A missing puzzle piece. 

It’s late, so Bradley is probably already asleep. He mentioned he has an early start tomorrow and you don’t want to disturb him. But you also don’t want to wait almost two weeks before you can ask about the missing ring. 

You take out the last items from the box—it’s as good as empty now.

You use the torch on your phone to get a better look, fingers running along the edges of the cardboard. There’s a dust bunny, a few scraps of paper and what looks like a lone Lego brick. No ring.

Carefully peeling back the flaps on the bottom, you lean closer for a better look. Still nothing. You wiggle your hand under the flap, fingers exploring every nook and cranny. Your hand is getting coated in dust and what feels like grains of sand. 

Yuck.

Still no luck.

Maybe there is no ring, and it’s been long lost between Bradley’s moves.

But that’s kind of boring.

Putting your phone away, you sit back, rocking on your heels. 

Fuck this.

You flip the box over, shaking it with some vigor. Sand, dust and Lego hit the floor with soft thuds. Suddenly, a soft-

Ting.

Metal hitting the wooden floor.

Ting.

It bounces.

Quickly, you push the box out of the way. 

There, between the dust and the grime, landed a golden ring. The almond shaped topaz, set between two smaller diamonds, glitters like the sun, even under the artificial light of your living room light.

Carefully picking it up, you study it. Like everything in the box, it’s kind of dirty and scuffed. As you look at it—it is a beautiful ring—it dawns on you. It looks familiar. 

But… from where?

Oh fuck.

Pulling out the wedding album, you flip the pages until you find the picture you are looking for. You’ve spent a better part of a week, every evening after work (sometimes while on the phone with Bradley), carefully peeling the pictures off the page and painstakingly reapplying them until your back hurt. You’ve gotten plenty familiar with every photo. 

There it is. 

Bradley’s parents, in close up, smiling at each other lovingly. But more importantly, her hand is resting on his shoulder, and there, clear as day, sits that exact ring.

It’s his mother’s engagement ring.

Suddenly, your heart is beating so loudly, you can barely hear yourself think. You know Bradley didn’t leave it in there for you to find. Hell, considering the state it’s in, he probably forgot it was in there in the first place.

But.

You cannot deny that you’ve not allowed yourself a little dream here and there. In the long term, you indulge in the fantasy of getting married to Bradley. Would Bradley marry you? You’ve never talked about marriage, or kids, together.

Finding this ring now sets your mind into overdrive. He would look so good in his formal uniform. He would kiss you so sweetly at the alt- oooh, this is bad. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. 

Okay. Focus on the practicals. 

The ring box is busted, so you need to find a place to store the ring. You could order a new ring box online, but you don’t want the ring to just lie around your desk in the meantime.

It feels a bit too forward to place it in your own jewelry box. It’s not yours, it shouldn’t be there. The only other place… the box with the dog tags.

Your breath sounds loud in the otherwise silent room—adrenaline is still coursing through your veins as you open the small box. With the thin blade you use to lift pictures off the page, you slice a small slit into the foam, next to the dog tags.

The ring slides in easily, glinting happily in the light, cozily tucked next to the dog tags. 

It looks… right, you decide. 

You close the little box lovingly. 

It feels right, having them together like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is the day. You are bouncing on your heels, trying to see over the crowd of people in the arrival hall. 

You’ve checked signs at the exit at least a dozen times. It’s really this exit. Every 30 seconds, your eyes flicker over to the display—no, the arrival hall for Bradley’s flight hasn’t changed, yes, it’s still the same exit. The airport app only confirms it.

You fidget with the belt of your light trench coat.

Why are you so nervous?

It’s only been a month.

You’ve arrived too early—Bradley’s plane hasn’t even landed yet. But you’ve been having this dreadful, horror-filled premonition you’d be late—when he finally asked you to wait for him. 

You can’t fuck this up.

But now you’re here, a good 20 minutes early, nervously shifting your weight from foot to foot, watching people around you mill about. Weary travelers rush past you to taxis, while people have small and big reunions, and designated airport pick-ups hold signs with bored expressions.  

It’s torture. 

You should have brought a book. Or at least your AirPods or something. Anything to distract you from looking at the clock every 5-odd seconds, getting distracted by every announcement made, and ultimately disappointed every time with how slowly time is going.

Trying to stop yourself from pacing like an absolute madwoman in front of the exit, you stroll around the shops in the arrival halls—always in the line of sight of one of the information displays. Not that anything changes. 

Listlessly you page through cheap romance novels, read a couple of headlines on the magazine rack and inspect small trinkets. There is a particularly unfortunate-looking plastic model of the Washington monument, leaning precariously forward like it’s in a tower of Pisa contest (you almost buy it because you feel so bad for it).

Unfortunately, that’s only 5 minutes gone.

You recheck your pockets for what must be the 348th time today. Phone, house keys, car keys. Chapstick, chewing gum, wallet. Everything is still there.

You walk past the flower stand, where big bouquets and bunches of roses in vibrant colors contrast starkly against the gray marble airport tiling. Aluminum balloons swing softly as people rush home. The smell of overpriced cheesy pastries wafts through the air.

You quickly stop by the bathroom—brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The bruise on your face has long disappeared.  You look fine. 

It’s too cold for the summer dress Bradley seems to favor, so you’ve opted for a wrap dress with longer sleeves that is more appropriate for the weather. You like to think that cut flatters you. You look good.

Slipping your hand back into the pockets of your coat, you slowly head back to the exit. Still no change on the display.

You repeat two more slow rounds around the shops, trying not to look like a total weirdo, when the display finally shows Bradley’s plane has landed. Faster than necessary, you leg it back to the exit, as if he could come out any minute. Yes, you know he still needs to make it off the plane, wait for his luggage, and then walk all the way where you are waiting but Bradley is here.

You’re about to burst with anticipation, hands clasped around your phone that you hold up to your chest because you don’t think you can stop fidgeting otherwise, and because it feels like your heart might leap straight out.

“waiting for luggage x” 

Bradley’s message is simple and to the point, but makes you feel like you might just float above the crowd in front of you and straight into his arms.

He is so close.

Every time the sliding doors open and people file out, you bounce onto your tiptoes to see that familiar head of caramel curls with that confidently easy-going gait and that cocky smile that makes you weak at the knees. Bradley knows exactly the effect he has on you, and you’ve decided to just own it.

 Fuck it, you’re in love.

And you know it’s mutual.

It’s like you’ve developed a sixth sense for Bradley. The moment the sliding doors open again, you feel him before you see him. He’s here.

Bradley’s stance is confident in his crisp khaki uniform as he steps out, not faltering for a second —but his eyes are scanning the crowd nervously. You stand rooted to the ground for one second before your brain jolts you into action: he’s looking for you.

Bradley’s heart is beating anxiously—where are you? — when, your voice rings out over all the noise around, clear as a bell.

“Bradley!”

You are weaving through the crowd, about 90 feet away, trying to get past the horde of people waiting as quickly and somewhat as politely as possible. He can see your shining eyes even from the distance: they are his beacon home.

Unceremoniously, he drops his bag on the floor, not really caring it’s in the middle of the path. He only has eyes for you now.

Finally, you break free from the line, running forward with your arms outstretched. Before you can take two steps, Bradley is running up to you.

You crash into each other, Bradley lifting you off your feet in one fell swoop. You wrap your legs around him, not really caring how the skirt of your dress is bunching up around your thighs. Your hands got to cradle Bradley’s face, lips inching close like you’re sharing a secret just between the two before you kiss him.

“Welcome home, lieutenant.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] aaaaand that it's for the main story. Almost. There is still an epilogue in the works where I'll try to tie up some of the leftover threads. Plus there's one side story that I'm particularly excited to write. Soon I'll probably take some time to thoroughly edit the story. I know for a fact some story elements fell a little to the wayside, and not everything works quite like I wanted it to (let alone that some sentences read like I've had a stroke half-way through).

Thank you for reading. Thank you for all the comments and encouragement. Thank you for helping me re-discover that writing can still be fun and it's okay to self-indulge. Ultimately, I hope my story brought you some joy!

[taglist] @ponyboys-sunsets | @thatchickwiththecamera | @littlewhiterose | @katieshook02 | @straightforwardly | @zazzysseoul | @rororo06 | @datingbtr | @notalxx | @fresh-new-yoik-watah | @gretagerwigsmuse  | @swthxrry | @joshkiskasbunion | @caelipartem | @blackbrownie | @yanak324 | @unluckymonaghan | @letusbewildflowers | @ticklish-leafy-plant | @alana4610 | @eg-dr3amer3 | @turningtoclown | @mell-bell | @mak-32 | @avis15 | @helplesslydevoted | @benhardysdrumstick | @chaoticversion | @cherrycola27 | @roosterschanelslut

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader

[girl4music]

Looks like I now have 4 favourite TV shows of all-time.

Never thought I would get into ‘Wynonna Earp’ as much as I did. Yes, WayHaught had a lot to do with it but it wasn’t the only thing I loved about watching it.

It was very much like watching a modern Xena or Buffy or Charmed. Just with guns and cowboy hats and more f-bombs than all 3 other shows combined. Yes, ‘Wynonna Earp’ is significantly shorter so the pacing is very different and there’s not as much filler as there is in the other shows - which I suppose is good for some but I’m always partial to filler material when it’s used purposefully to build on character representation and development. And for what filler ‘Wynonna Earp’ has, it is used very well. It’s the same duration time for each episode but shorter seasons.

Nevertheless, what they do with it is substantial.

It’s without a doubt my favourite ‘10’s show. I mean honestly, there isn’t much to contend with there because I am and I’ve always been a 90’s/00’s chick when TV art/entertainment was just better in all ways because there wasn’t as much pressure to produce “popular” or “successful” content and there wasn’t the constant anxiety of cancellation on a whim either.

Creators, cast and crew could have fun. And I think that’s what I detect in ‘Wynonna Earp’ the most that reminds me of these 3 other shows. Fun for everyone. Also - ensemble casts. That’s a key thing with me. Gangs, teams. More than one lead main character. And side or recurring characters that help the leads. ‘Wynonna Earp’ has all of this and so much more to it.

Therefore, it belongs here on my phone with them. With these 3 other amazing shows that own my life.

Honestly, I’m a tough person to please when it comes to TV art/entertainment. So it’s a job well done guys!

#wynonna earp #made it on to my phone #along with #xena warrior princess #buffy the vampire slayer #charmed #please if there’s anymore shows like this #please tell me #although I may not have enough space to add them to my phone #emily andras #shows are getting smaller and smaller these days

[seraphdreams]

MEMENTO MORI.

CONTAINS : angst, major (??) character death, dark content, drugging/spiking mention, mental anguish, alcohol, lots of discreet symbolism.

PAIRING : bimbo fem!reader (reader is an assistant), bonten members, hanma and kisaki.

WORD COUNT : 3.4k

SYNOPSIS : your first espionage mission made you realize a lot about yourself.

AUTHOR’S NOTE : this is a lot different from most of the work i put out. i wanted to make this a series possibly, depending on how well it does but enjoy!

Espionage. That was the name of the game, the game you had been tasked with by the insufferable Manjirou Sano. He was somewhat like your boss but mainly a force to be reckon with. If you were to slack around with the others, you knew better than to not be anything but formal and professional around him.

That’s what’s expected of their little assistant right?

Plans and preparations had gone on for months, constant paperwork on your desk from organizing meetings to discussing finances with Koko. Manjirou was never to be found during these times and you wonder what he did when he wasn’t piling missions onto his elites. From the information that you gathered from observing your favorite men during intel meetings and foreign exchanges, you knew exactly who the target was, why—and how you fit into the picture.

“Hanma Shuji and Kisaki Tetta.” Mikey had spoke, hands crossed and rested over the shiny lacquer of the deep oak table. There were obvious looks of distaste on each of the men’s faces but Sano made sure to keep his eyes on you. “I want you to disguise yourself as a socialite and gather intel on their next move and reasoning.”

Sanzu, surprisingly, was first to interject. “You want her to do what, Boss?” You figured his reaction came from a place of possessiveness. He knew what your very first mission entailed, and he knew that there were better ways to go about it. He isn’t fucking stupid. He just loves you, he always has. Ever since you trotted your ditzy self up to Bonten, he knew that you’d be all his and he remained partially right. He had forgotten to take into account all the others who wanted you just as much as he did.

“You don’t think this would end up better if we did it ourselves?” Ran asks, not because he doesn’t trust you but because he knows just how terrible Hanma and Kisaki could be. If you managed to fail, who knows what they’d do to you.

Koko clears his throat before responding, brushing back the strands of ivory-hued hair from his shoulders. “We’ve become too predictable. If we really want to get this done and fast, then we better do it Mikey’s way.”

Truth be told, Mikey didn’t trust you one bit. He didn’t like you at all. He didn’t like the fact that ever since you started working as an assistant, his gang had been going downhill, at least to his standards. You were wrapped around their finger and was the only thing they could think about, which distracted them from what they should be focused on.

“I’ve set everything up. All y/n needs to do is show up and look pretty.” Mikey states. Your mission is to act as one of Hanma’Saki’s devout “fans” and get to know them well enough to the point they’re comfortable with sharing information around “unsuspecting” little ol’ you. You could do that, you were bubbly enough to get Japan’s most feared criminals to fall in love with you, what’s two more?

“Does this sound good to you?” The leader’s gaze is locked onto yours and you gulp under the cold stare, nodding your head and shooting a warm smile, one that works well on the others but not him.

You weren’t working alone, obviously, they’d be fools to leave such a bimbo like you all alone in a world of scary wolves. Since Hitto had stalked and recorded their every move for the past two months, it was 100% likely they’d show up to one of the most finest restaurants in the city, (owned by Bonten but you’d have to be a sleuth to know that) request a private room and a girl to keep them company, this time the girl is you. Wiretaps were already put in place, with the Kokonoi on standby and Haitanis/Haruchiyo conducting a raid on their hideout for any piece of intel in case you’d fail.

You found solace in the mundane things that you’d usually do as you’d get ready to head out anywhere. Music blares from the speaker of your phone as you’re in search of your other earring, humming away to the lyrics of the song. Perhaps this was your way of distracting yourself from the obsolete danger you’re bound to ensue yourself in. If you thought too hard about it, you’d be sick to your stomach and that isn’t what you need, so you continue to mindlessly prance around your apartment, collecting articles of clothing and accessories to decorate yourself in.

A half hour passes by, the sun gradually diminishing into night with few stars to illuminate the dark, atmospheric blanket in. You take notice of the sky, only realizing you’re prone to being late if you continue to dawdle around. Swiftly, you reach for your purse and keys, heading out and on your way.

Your purse feels heavier than usual, mostly due to the weaponry inside but it doesn’t bother you. Nothing seems to bother you. You were a lot like the sun, aiding everyone around you with warmth and light, even if you weren’t shining in one area, you shined somewhere else. Maybe that’s why Bonten loves you so much.

The commute to the restaurant where you’d be meeting with Hanma and Kisaki was short. You had called for a Taxi to take you but soon realized how embarrassing it was when you got to your location in less than five minutes. Next time you’ll be sure to walk home, maybe even call one of Bonten’s chauffeurs to pick you up.

“Thank you!” You beam at the driver after handing him his pay. He purses his lips together and nods his head before shifting the gear into drive and pulling off. By orders of Koko, you were instructed to enter the back entrance of the establishment since it was in such an obscure area that no one would frequent it. He was right. There were no streetlights, no employees gathering on break, barely even any parking spaces. Just a singular gray door with a small lamp overhead.

With your lack of light, you pull out your phone and turn on the flash. Your heels sonorously clacked along the concrete as you tread to the door. You give it one swift push before you realize it’s a pull door. Thankfully, no one was around to see the humiliation arise on your cheeks.

It’s a stairway.

You head up the stairs, attempting to not make any more noise with the pair of $1500 Versace heels on.

Private Room 14.

It came into your sight quicker than you realized, possibly due to your focus being on your shoes. You knock. There’s no answer. You knock again and the sight you’re met with instantly causes your heart to drop.

You’d been so good at distracting yourself that you practically forgot what your mission called for. You were way too inexperienced to be dealing with this.

Hanma. He’s a tall man, golden eyes and blond streaked hair. As soon as he opened the door, the scent of Giorgio Armani cologne flooded your senses. You took him in from the bottom up. A pair of black dress shoes, a black three piece suit with a white button up, some clunky gold watch on his wrist and graffiti on the back of his hands, a singular gold earring to match his watch and circular glasses framing his face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive.

“You gonna keep staring or are you gonna come in, pretty girl?”

The bellow of his deep voice shakes you from your trance and a smile of faux fascination creeps onto your lips. “O-oh, yeah!”

He opens the door wide enough for you to slip through, and you do, smiling at the man who sat down at the table, adjusting his watch.

Kisaki. The mastermind behind it all. You feared him more than Hanma due to all the stories Ran and Rindou would share of how manipulative he was, how he’d do just about anything to get his way. He was the pierrot. Hanma was the reaper.

Hanma pulls a seat out for you before sitting beside you and across from Kisaki. You seat yourself, resting your purse onto your lap. “It’s her, ‘Saki.” Hanma says, in an attempt to introduce you to him. Not that you’d know but Kisaki had no interest in girls, they hurt him and they got in the way. He only allowed you here because his partner was more than adamant on needing the company of a pretty girl to get him through the rest of the day.

“Hi! I’m Y/N.” You beam. He scans over your features, namely your lips, and reigns a smile of his own. “Such a lovely name. Say, Y/N, have a drink.” He hands you a glass of clear, slightly cloudy liquor, already poured halfway full. You’re may be an amateur but you’re not fucking dense as to not realize his intent. You wave your hand around and shake your head, a polite grin at the corners of your lips. “Oh no, no. I don’t drink. Thank you so much though.”

Kisaki’s jaw ticks, his eyebrows slightly raising as if you had offended him. “You don’t..? Have you ever tried?”

You didn’t know whether or not to lie, or to tell the truth and admit that you do in fact drink, you’re just wary of what’s in the drink. “I haven’t. I heard it goes down your throat super bad so I've never been interested.” You take the glass, already regretting your decision.

“Not if you’re drinking the expensive kind. It’s Daiginjo, baby. It’ll go down smooth and sweet.” He mentally backs you into a corner as if he’s trying to shed a layer from you, the layer of falsivity that you have guarded up. “I’ll try it once I order, I didn’t get to eat much before coming here.” You end your sentence with a wry chuckle, your heart beating exuberantly when Kisaki looks at Hanma then Hanma looks at you.

You know that silent exchange all too well. Step one — failed. They’ve already marked you as suspicious which causes your mind to scramble for anything that could redeem you. The alcohol.

Sanzu’s a virtuous teacher, and one of his lessons is about to come in handy. Your mind flashbacks to a few days ago in preparation of your mission.

“When dealing with roofied drinks, there’s two things ya gotta know. If ya swirl it in the glass and it bubbles, it’ll get ya really fucking high. But if it’s darker than the usual color, it’s a sedation drug and it’ll knock yer ass out completely.”

“What do I do if it’s a sedation drug?”

“You can only pray it isn’t.”

Looking down at your glass, it matches the color in the bottle. You swirl it for good measure, noticing the way it starts to bubble up. Thank God. You can pass off being high. You raise the glass to your lips and pretend to drink the contents, furrowing your brows at its “taste.”

“Attagirl.” Hanma coos, picking you up and placing you on top of his lap.

A sequence of 30 minutes passes by. The men must find your ditzy act acceptable since they go on about it as if it’s nothing. The only reason Hanma and Kisaki want you drugged is because they aren’t stupid. They treat every guest like an enemy—like a spy. They couldn’t dare risk someone knowing about their plans — The same plans that they talk so loosely about. “Shuji, don’t get distracted. Remember why we’re here in the first place.” Kisaki says in a scolding manner. The sight of you on Hanma’s lap as he bounces you over his thigh has Tetta reeling. Where his partner lived for the thrill, Kisaki lived for technicality.

“We kill a couple rats, infiltrate Bonten and become the new leaders of Japan, easy.” Hanma says in a vexed tone as if it wasn’t his first time ingeminating the sentence. “It’s not fucking easy. There’s Mikey. We’ve been trying to kill him for years now and he won’t die. Invincible little shit.”

You listen intently at their conversation, knowing not to interject. You need as much information as possible. “Once Mikey’s out of the way, his lackeys will follow.” Kisaki ends, taking a quick swig of his drink.

“What does this mean?” Your query is sounded from a docile voice as you take hold of Hanma’s right hand. “It says punishment, baby. If you keep on being good for me, you won’t get that.”

Softly, you giggle, thinking about what the others could possibly be doing now.

9:07 PM, HANMA’SAKI HIDEOUT.

“Dead. Dead. Dead. Each and every one.” Sanzu singsongs, lightly stepping on his toes to the supposed office of Kisaki’s. The bodyguards and scraps that were set in place to protect the hideout had been successfully eliminated with Ran and Rindou keeping watch while Haruchiyo looks for any documents of physical evidence he can gather to satisfy his boss.

Mikey was his God. Mikey gave him a life with meaning and to attain for that, Sanzu’ll spend his whole life under the king.

Checkmate.

Back at the restaurant, things continue to go smoothly, your identity still hidden safely. A phone rings and it’s Hanma’s. He picks up the call and you can hear muffling coming from the device from your proximity. You try to listen in as best you can.

“Boss… They’re — They're here. Bonten… He shot m-me… Pink hair… I’m the only.. one left… Come quick.”

Heavy breathing is heard from the line, the man on the other end sounding like he’s barely hanging on to the thread of life. Wait, pink hair? Sanzu?

Sanzu must've gotten overzealous. There’s a survivor.

What do you do now?

The both of them hastily get up, Hanma placing you down onto your feet before he finds a more secluded spot to continue his phone call in.

You stand there, internally panicking. You don’t know whether or not to still play into the act or reveal yourself. If only someone was here to guide you.

Fear had to have been evident on your face that it roused Kisaki’s suspicions as he got up to head to the door. He looks to you, deeply. Noticing how your pupils remain shrunken, whereas they should’ve been dilated from the drug.

This was it. He knew to trust his gut. He got too comfortable. With a complete stranger.

“Hm? What’s going on? We didn’t even finish dinner yet.”

Silence.

“Who are you?” He’s leaning in, cornering you against the wall.

“Why are you here?”

You can’t even respond, you stammer. You’re scared.

There’s a gun in your purse.

What would happen to you if you couldn’t complete this mission? Is it worth dying over? Is it worth going against Mikey's orders?

You were supposed to gather intel, how did it get so serious?

His hand is taut around your wrist. It’s probably not supposed to hurt as much but it does. You discreetly reach for the gun as he’s distracted by pestering you, his silver orbs locked onto yours.

It’s aimed at his chest, you pull back, you wince. He doesn’t realize until it’s too late.

Down, from a gunshot wound to the heart.

He was blocking the exit but now you’re free to leave. You flee, with tears in your eyes. Tears running down your face. You did it. You were just as bad as the men you worked for. Maybe you were even worse since you allowed—no, enabled them to do so.

You’re a monster. What do you do now? Where do you turn? Who's gonna be by your side?

Hanma was too busy on the phone with his underling telling him in full detail who was on their tail that he didn’t notice the scene from his peripheral vision. The high-tech silencer did a good job of masking the sound.

He’s seen this scene play out in front of him too many times. Kisaki was never agile so he always put himself in physical danger. He treads closer to his body, kneeling down. The hand of Sin wrapped around one of Kisaki’s. He tried pulling his body up, to sit him up, as if he could aid in his strength.

“You fool, get up.”

Kisaki is unresponsive, lying in a puddle of his own blood.

“That weak ass bullet can’t kill you.” There was more silence.

“…Tetta?”

—

Headquarters aren’t too far from here, maybe you’ll tell Mikey what happened and he’ll fix it.

No, don’t tell Mikey.

You let your subconscious guide you, and that it did. All the way through the doors of Bonten and into Manjirou’s office. You’re a mess, you forgot to even take account for what Hanma will do to the others. For now you tell Mikey everything, even through tears and nonstop hiccuping.

“You’re a killer. A murderer. A criminal.” He stares with dead eyes. “Did you get the information like I asked?”

You sniffle, “Yes sir.”

“Then you did well.”

“B-but i-“

“Death will follow you around until you’re six feet under. Everyone you know will die, everyone you love will die. It's hard to understand at first, but once you do—You’ll live easy, guilt free. You followed my orders, what did you expect from this line of work? The rest of them can handle themselves. Go home, go to sleep, and put today behind you.”

It’s easier said than done, at least for Mikey who’s been in this business for a while. You trust he’s wise and you do as he says.

The doors of Mikey’s office feel like steel as you turn the knob to exit. Your body feels heavy but also as if it could collapse with a strong enough gust of wind. Those same Versace heels clad on your feet come into view as you walk out. They’re stained. In blood that isn’t yours. It fucking sucks, Ran bought those for you.

Your head remains down and you walk on, not bothering to look ahead of you. Which is exactly why you crash headfirst into Kakuchou’s chest.

“Hey, woah, Y/N?” Solicitude flows from his voice as he straightens you up so that you could look at him. His eyebrows are knitted upward and his lips part slightly. You meet his heterochromatic gaze, they’re swimming in dubiety.

“‘M sorry.” You try to displace yourself from the grasp he has on your shoulders but they remain strong. “What’s wrong? Did it not go well?” Hearing his voice caused tears to swell up in your eyes. It was a stark contrast from the monotonous tones you’d been hearing all day.

If you had the strength to relive the memories of barely an hour previous, you would. Yet you don’t. You quietly sob into Kaku’s chest and he slides his hand up and down your back to comfort you. “Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” You nod at his query and after some comfortable silence, you pull from his body and lead him back to your place.

Bonten was convenient. At least the buildings were. Everything you needed resided in the 200 foot tall building. You lived on floor 16, across from Kakuchou’s suite but you didn’t really notice until now.

When you both got inside, you stepped out of your heels and threw them in the trash. You didn’t need the reminder, or perhaps the guilt of keeping something that reminded you of your first hit. From this point on, there would be many.

It’s silent. It’s silent when Kaku runs your bath water for you. It’s silent when he cooks you a meal—something quick, like ramen. You didn’t eat much, he knew you wouldn’t. He knew not to overstep his boundaries. That’s what you liked about him. The others felt entitled to you but in a way he didn’t. He didn’t feel the need to ask you about your mission or make small talk. You both sat in comfortable inaudibility all the way up until you decided to go to bed.

He strips from his suit until he’s in nothing but briefs, and joins you under the covers. “Tomorrow’ll be better. I know how rough it can be.” He states. Simple words he doesn’t even believe himself soothed your uneasiness and you rested your head on his chest.

He’s warm. His arms wrap around you so gently, with care, it’s like you’re an innocent angel.

His heartbeat was a good distraction from your thoughts, an indication of the life still flowing through his body. It brought you back to earth, brought back your humanity where chastity was thrown out the window.

Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep.

#tokyo revengers angst #tokyorev angst #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #bonten angst #sanzu angst #ran angst #rindou angst #kakucho angst #mikey angst #hanma angst #kisaki angst #kokonoi angst #sanzu x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #kakucho x reader #kisaki x reader #hanma x reader #mikey x reader #kokonoi x reader #tr angst #mikey x you #mikey x y/n #hanma x y/n #hanma x you #sanzu x y/n #sanzu x you

[rainedragon]

I usually post Lolibrary content on the site's facebook page, and not my personal Tumblr, but this is a little more personal. This is my 5,000th Lolibrary entry. Lolibrary celebrated it's 13th birthday last month, and as of right this second we have 84,951 published entries.

I did the math a couple days ago for a post on the FB or twitter, and for lolibrary as a whole, it comes out to something wild like 17 entries per day. And that is 'counting' the fairly long time around 2018 when we couldn't make entries at all.

I'm not the biggest contributor to lolibrary. That is Onlyeasy, who entered more than 1/5th of the content on lolibrary and recently has retired from being an active senior lolibrarian. Followed by our late founder, Amethystcitrine. Amy entered more than 1/10th of the content currently on lolibrary. Lately, I was thinking 'I should record some videos on how to add measurements' because that seems to trip up a lot of new contributors. And, I keep thinking about the videos she made, which makes me really miss being able to talk to her about lolibrary.

The 3rd biggest contributor to lolibrary is theladymienshao (9.22%) who currently enters Baby/Pirates, and then Sucre-Dolls (6.94%) who enters Angelic Pretty. I am so impressed by the constant updates of the new items, because I've never been able to do that.

The person with the next most entries is azuki-mikan (pita-tenshi), again, absolutely fantastic, azuki-mikan has made 7.3% of the entries.

And then me, I'm 6th with 5.88% of the entries. So, I'm definitely not the most active when it comes to entering items. I do some other things with lolibrary, like I make most of the Facebook and Twitter posts (which is why they are very inconsistent). I also count up when an indie brand goes over the minimum threshold for tag, and the minimum threshold for being promoted to a brand, and then recently I've been manually moving the entries across for those too. I also did a lot of the manual checking on the shoe entries when we imported those in recently, and like all the other senior lolibrarians who are active, I do some of the pending submission approvals. And of course, I do some degree of book research & scanning with my magazine & catalog collection, some degree of item identification, etc. I also spend a lot of my time adding images to existing partial listings to flesh them out. But there are other people who do other tasks that aren't entering items too. Like Sage-Blossom who does a ton of corrections & tag clean up work, for example. And our development team who do the coding, and one of our other admins who handles all of the legal and financial pieces so we can pay our bills and maintain our status as a non-profit. And then there are a lot more very active contributors too! I think one of my favorite things about lolibrary is that it is a community project and it is made up of lots of people doing lots of different things. I think also that's one of the reasons that lolibrary has had the longevity it has had. And through it, I've met a lot of wonderful people who I absolutely think the world of. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm very glad that lolibrary exists, and I hope it continues on for many years to come. <3

#Lolibrary #personal #p.s. if you want to make lolibrary entries #send me a chat for a discord invite #unless you already are in our discord #in which case #you are a cool person #also shout out to sucre-dolls who pulled the stats on top contributors #I recalculated some of them #but I used that list as a base

[arcann]

Well tumblr ate the ask at the last minute because I guess a draft this long, + an image and links is too much for the hellsite 😔

Jeremiah @tragicomedykitty asked me about my reaper headcanons so here they are! Thank you so much for the ask ❤

This got a lot longer than I thought it would but here are my thoughts and headcanons! Content warnings for discussions of cannibalism, gore and self harm, nothing descriptive though. 

About the usual pact with a voidsent:

In an average communion with a soulstone the reaper doesn't get to choose the voidsent, they send a call to the void and the inhabitants there can choose to accept or reject it. The encyclopedia says it has to be a voidsent that shares an extremely similar soul and I agree but they also imply it's likely part of your ancient counterpart's soul which I only partially use. It just needs to be similar. To me that means that it spent time eating and absorbing or being eaten by the voidsent that shares the reaper’s soul. They leave an impression on each other no matter how many more voidsent they ate (you’re eating another person, they become a part of you, that must be an impactful process). 

The voidsent from lower hierarchies never answer. There is nothing a single being could offer that would satisfy a being as powerful as them. Meanwhile the weakest voidsent don’t understand the call. It’s usually a voidsent from the middle ranks that was killed a short time ago and has come back, searching for a new way to get a constant source of aether.

Canon says it’s just an avatar that reaches through the void, which the reaper has to open every time they need its powers. I changed it so that the voidsent actually becomes a type of parasite/ghost in their body that siphons aether from the reaper, their surroundings or the people they kill. A part of it stays inside the reaper at all times and they have to teach it how to leave their body to attack. Some might be able to leave and roam the source or return to the void if they wish to. However they do submit to the reaper’s will and if they’re under control they will return to their side immediately.

I like to think they prefer to haunt the reaper’s liver when they’re inside them :) 

Their personalities are unpredictable and one takes a lot of risk from the beginning. The reaper can get a beast who wants more and more aether and plans to take over their body and might outright attack them or plot to get back at them in the long run. This type of voidsent think they are owed the reaper’s soul for giving their help. The reaper has to choose if the reason they made the covenant is worth fighting for their soul permanently or decide when it is time to cut the voidsent out before they slip up and lose themselves.

The voidsent that kills their host improves their level in the hierarchy. They’re evidently more powerful but there’s a degree of separation in their soul that doesn’t make them become a fully united being like after the ascians’ Ardors. They take the form of their reaper and can only slightly modify it, but it’s like they’re stuck inside their body still. It counts as possession even if the two beings are more intrinsically tied to one another than the usual necromancy.

The reaper can kill their voidsent but their soul is sundered permanently and their soulstone cracks. If they try to do another pact it won’t respond. This also happens if something else provokes the death of their ally.

They can like you a lot though. You can be friends. They’re just people after all and most are very tired of their immortality. They enjoy the novelty of the Source and having someone that might care for them.

Enshrouding is a very difficult process that requires either complete control over the voidsent or a very solid relationship filled with trust. It should be used in short bursts during combat so that both sides don’t get used to having their souls intertwined in such a way. The more experienced combatants could stay enshrouded for more time but even they should be wary.

Enshrouding modifies the reaper’s body into a shape the voidsent is more comfortable in. If the reaper allows it, the voidsent can “design” this state more thoroughly so their powers can flow easily and their combat aptitude improves. This changes the form the reaper came up with first, which usually looks more like them.

Evil voidsent don’t get to play designer, they will fuck you up and possession will become much more easier if you let them.

This is the moment where the souls of the duo fuse. The process is voluntary so the soul of the reaper becomes denser with the voidsent soul being a perfect match for theirs. It’s a much more powerful bond than when the voidsent absorbs its host.

About Garlean reapers before the empire:

Garleans who become reapers can use aether as any other person would but they can only perform dark aspected magic unless their own voidsent could manipulate other types of magic before they fused. They can be just as powerful as the average mage but they need to siphon more aether from their surroundings or their victims.

Before the empire, there were clans of reapers that would be in charge of roaming around Garlemald to protect other communities. They would live away from them when times were peaceful. People from other clans would sometimes seek them to be granted their powers and they were tested to see if they could survive the process. If they failed a reaper would simply accompany them to solve the problem and pay attention to that area in case another conflict occurred there. If they passed, after their crusade was done and their loved ones were safe they would have to return with the reaper clan that had adopted them. This was done to prevent them from either abusing the rest of the community with their newfound magic or becoming possessed and harming others with no one to stop them.

Elder reapers with more violent and manipulative voidsent became pillars of strength among the clans and they incurred much more respect. Their lives were not easy and their endings were rarely happy but their experience spoke for them and they usually became much more efficient (yet much more stern) mentors.

If two reapers fought to the death it would most likely conclude on partial or complete cannibalism of the defeated party. The logic inside the void is that you eat other voidsent to survive so those old instincts would easily kick in a fight similar to the ones that happen in the 13th. This usually destabilizes the reaper’s relationship with their voidsent and either they would be encouraged to have a long period of reflection or cut their relationship entirely. The reaper clans were careful in keeping the peace inside their group and tried to solve their problems in any other way but combat. 

If the eaten voidsent was very powerful (and the battle was lost due to the eaten reaper’s lower combat experience) the other voidsent might really have to fight to “digest” the enemy and if they are not capable of doing so the eaten one might burst out of the winning reaper, xenomorph style. The host would most likely die unless very quick and powerful magical action was taken, which the garlean reapers had no access to. This was the worst case scenario for a clan.

Cannibalism and necrophagia could also occur when the reaper was losing in combat and nearing death so the voidsent realized the only aether they can take is from corpses or their enemies and a much more direct solution would be to put the aether running through the other bodies inside theirs immediately instead of spending energy siphoning it. The reaper clans looked down on this too but the truth was that the voidsent acted pragmatically and in benefit of their host. Everyone who went through that situation knew the feeling. It was an uncomfortable truth. 

Some voidsent caused only mischief in their free time and  those were the ones that allowed their reapers to grow older much more easily, so they spent more time in the Source. They had myths that turned into oral stories built around them and holidays which would be the garlean equivalent to All Saints’ Wake (FFXIV’s Halloween) and the Roman Lemuria. The empire forbade the celebrations after the assassination attempt against the emperor but Drusilla (the reaper mentor) and her Lemures keep them alive. They’re several and some serve as a commemoration to the reaper clans’ achievements or tragedies while others are for fun.

About reapers during the empire:

When the empire was in its nascent period the reapers were an important part of the military. The frumentarii (imperial spies) were founded by the first reaper clan that swore fealty to Solus and slowly all the clans were involved to some degree of spy work. The soon to be emperor was recognized as a tactical genius and his first strategies in the conquest of Ilsabard would usually involve sending reapers after the heads of important leaders of other countries before the battle began.

Pause to think about reapers in Garlemald’s cringe fail military armor. They really took the L in this period of time.

The few reapers that refused to join the empire were hunted down by black masked ascians or escaped Ilsabard before that happened.

Solus pushed for all the frumentarii to become reapers for a short time but that was a failure in his eyes, they were never enough to push forward all of his plans. The administrative positions and spy work in places where conflict was unlikely had to be filled with the average rank and file. Behind closed doors the demands of the emperor were traumatizing for elder reapers since they sent many young people to very grisly deaths. They didn’t have a cause they believed in and there was no time to train them thoroughly so they got overwhelmed easily and had to be executed. The ones who survived would end up bonding more with their mentors and would easily choose them over the ideals of the empire. 

My headcanon is that Drusilla was one of those younger people but luckily her grandfather Rullus was one of the frumentarii with higher standing so she knew what to expect and stayed with him most of the time. Her voidsent was also friendlier than most and it genuinely wanted to protect her.

Hater intermission: the encyclopedia gave Drusilla a dead husband and child and like 🙄 she’s a lesbian SE I care not for it. She’s officially 52 but I refuse to believe she’s younger than 65. Give me that vintage old woman. She mentions that her grandfather’s hair was black but turned white after the assassination attempt and yet she is shown as a young woman with white hair. Hell no, she had black hair. She also says 20 years ago her grandfather tried to kill Solus because he thought the cunt was going too far but by then Garlemald had completely conquered Ilsabard, most of western Othard and Ala Mhigo. He would have gone too far so many decades ago. Also Emet clearly doesn’t look 68 in the flashback. 

Enjoyer intermission: they did describe Rullus as the greatest reaper ever. I like that the tyrannicidal guy who saw Emet’s nonstop push for conquest and was like “oh fuck” was the mvp. 😎

SO… Drusilla Varus, the 65 year old lesbian living in Ul’dah who used to have black hair but it turned white because that’s what happens when you get older, ten years after the 7th Umbral Calamity, tells Taigat that 40 years ago, when she was 25, her grandfather Rullus, the most powerful reaper of his age, had to accept that he was getting old and everything around him had taken a turn for the worse. He had to recognize that the Empire's purpose had never been to stop their conquest at the reclamation of Locus Amoenus, and even that had never been a good reason for the atrocities committed. All of Ilsabard was under imperial control and western Othard would soon follow once progress with more powerful magitek was achieved. It was only a matter of time and in his conscience were thousands of deaths that now seemed evidently unnecessary. Maybe some of it had been the influence of his voidsent Orcus, always eager for more violence but if so that would have meant Rullus had been losing control over his companion for an unknown amount of time. In any case the responsibility was in his hands and he had to make a huge change while he could do something.

Orcus was a very powerful yet difficult voidsent. He plotted to make Rullus kill more than he intended so the man had to keep complete control over him all the time. However, as Rullus got older and questioned more of his own actions, his grip faltered and it gave Orcus room to think. 

Even if the impulses Orcus pushed forward were very subtle, Rullus decided to plot the assassination of the emperor on his own because of him. In the voidsent’s mind either he ate the emperor after killing legions of his men and sent an entire country to the brink or he would finally consume Rullus, as revenge for stifling him for decades.

Rullus was desperate to prove that his foolish dream of watching his people returning to the land they were ousted from hadn’t been twisted by a man who was building a monster worse than the one that clawed at his mind, that he could stop Solus from tearing down more nations and he was being eaten away with the guilt of everything he had done, so he was in a very precarious mental state.

The assassination did not go as either of them expected. By then, Emet Selch had already figured out that reapers were a thing of the past, a volatile element to be discarded and replaced as soon as possible. Garleans should look only at its military for protection, not at ghosts looming in the edges of society. The attack was the perfect excuse for him to denounce every reaper as traitors to be hunted.

For that Solus needed to kill him in a… public yet controlled space. He easily pushed back Rullus’ assault in the privacy of his palace’s chambers but ran away until his tribuni found them locked in fierce combat. After a bloody fight the surviving soldiers thought they had killed him but in reality Orcus had already taken control of Rullus and was playing dead. He could tell he wasn’t capable of defeating the paragon so he chose to have his revenge against his master. Emet knew he was pretending but outside of keeping Rullus’ soulstone he didn't bother to finish the abomination. Alone, voidsent don’t take on a challenge where the odds aren’t in their favor. It worked for the emperor because while he was publicly executing reapers, Orcus slipped into the darkness and began hunting Rullus’ remaining clan members. Without any warning (since Rullus told no one what he was planning) the reapers in service of the empire were massacred.

My headcanon is that the Magitek Reapers were developed a short while later and either Solus or someone who wanted to please him named them as a nod to the elimination of the traitors. The empire never loses anything, it improves and evolves. 

So in my timeline Rullus never returns to Drusilla since he died fighting Solus. When Orcus attacked, he ate her parents in front of her, taunted her with the fact that the emperor was so much more than a man who would destroy everything she loved and decided to kill her last, by slowly siphoning her aether. This was all because in life she was the person Rullus loved the most and Orcus thought it was insulting to use his powers to protect her for decades. When it was her turn, he didn’t notice that he exhausted the energy of Drusila’s voidsent instead of hers and while he killed it, she lived through the attack, barely. She is the only survivor of that clan and she didn’t know if any other reaper got away. 

About Drusilla specifically:

Drusilla took the soulstones she could find of her clan and her grandfather’s ancestral scythe (which Orcus couldn’t care for in the least) and ran west. It didn’t take Orcus too long to figure out she was still alive so he hunted her from time to time until he just grew bored or she managed to escape without his noticing. In the beginning she would make new friends that ended up in her enemy’s claws or his thralls. After that there was a period of her life where she gave up on living with other people but she slowly accepted that deep inside her she wanted to be in a group she could call her family and she never gave up on the idea. 

She never really forgave Rullus for not trusting her or anyone in their clan with his insurgency and when she was younger she blamed him for what happened. She now understands that thinking on what ifs just hurts her more but she is right that more people would have survived if they had all been involved, even if there was no way to defeat the emperor. Still, she misses him the most and Orcus mutilating his body more and more as time goes by didn’t help.

Ul’dah was the almost perfect place for her to keep Orcus away since the arid city filled with light was antithetical to the voidsent. Both Drusilla and Rullus preferred cold places and the abomination apparently adopted those preferences. Meanwhile Drusilla adapted and began to unite garlean remnants that had escaped the empire one way or another and took them all under her wing. She finally had a base of operations but still misses the colder weather. 

Besides, Ul’dah is filled with people who know how to deal with voidsent (thaumaturges), people who would be eager to uno reverse Orcus and start a huge hunt for his head to gain fame (gladiators) and people honor bound to kill voidsent if they knew one had entered the city (paladins) so he has to think twice before alerting those groups. Drusilla would never ask for help from any of them but she could hide her nature better, especially since she doesn’t have a voidsent with her anymore and Orcus wanted to stay as he was more than he wanted to toy with her.  

However, Orcus did make killings around Eorzea to show that he was still waiting for her to slip up. Drusilla investigated the murders that sounded suspicious like she did with Gridania but she only managed to catch his minions. Orcus probably slayed the most people in Ala Mhigo because an elite mark is named after him (like. they retconned the used name so it would be his namesake) and Drusilla wouldn’t be able to reach that area before Stormblood happened.

She wouldn’t accept payment since in her mind it’s her fault the murder had happened in the first place, so Drusilla would let herself be hired as an assassin for the people close to the Syndicate that could pay for her services to make ends meet. She never worked for the actual members because she didn’t want to risk being investigated thoroughly and becoming a public enemy which would ruin what she had built for the Lemures. By 1582 she had a reputation in the ul'dahn underworld but she was in no way infamous, and that’s how she liked it. 

She told every member of the Lemures about her decades old conflict with Orcus. She wouldn’t want them to think she was tricking them into getting into something actually dangerous. No one left after they learned the risk. I think they romanticize her quite a bit after they knew of her crusade. 

This is not about me romanticizing her 😳

About the reaper sidequest:

Orcus thought kidnapping Drusilla inside the Lemures’ base to get her and Taigat was worth leaving a huge trail to follow plus it was incredibly horrifying for everyone in the room.

In my timeline, the other scions need a lot of time to heal from being in the First so Taigat spent half of that time with Drusilla and when she was abducted they stayed with the Lemures to search for her without other distractions.

Orcus dragging her to Dusk Vigil at the reaper’s story’s climax always had those “it looks meaningful but maybe I’m reading too much into it” vibes because it's the closest thing Eorzea has to Garlemald’s climate and it has a story of failed rebellions against people who abuse their power, cannibalism and possession. Puts the mic on the reaper quest’s writer was this on purpose???? Please answer my emails and calls asap. Still Orcus sees it as the perfect setting to reenact Rullus’ death.

Anecdote intermission: First time I did the final mission I made Taigat cross the Coerthas Western Highlands from south to north in their Nightmare mount without flying. It felt so badass and I’ve done it the two times I’ve run through the storyline. (flying through that area looks like a nightmare anyway). 

Taigat does go alone once they reach that point for the same conclusion as in canon: they’re the only one who can use magic and have combat abilities able to match Orcus. The Lemures are mostly civilians and the few exceptions have never seen close combat with that type of monster.

Insane to me that Orcus took out her eye. Anyway I made it so that he was mocking Taigat’s missing eye but also to taunt her about how she lost Arnegis so close to her base that she was losing sight of the real danger out there. Anyway we hate Orcus in this house, we kill him with hammers, we let Drusilla decapitate his musty ass.

Afterwards the Lemures insist a lot on doting her and letting her rest, sort of implying she should retire and they would take care of her. She’s like “why the hell would I retire” and keeps hunting voidsent that scare the nearby settlements when she feels better. Soon after the war ends and although the animosity against garleans won’t be gone for a long time they can be certain that at least one of their enemies is gone. 

Now more specific Taigat and the voidsent blorbo headcanons:

Taigat had a lot of aetherical imbalances after absorbing the lightwardens and even while united with Ardbert their body wouldn’t get used to having a stronger leaning into the light aspect. I think the symptoms were fatigue and faintness along with prolonged pain from their old battle injuries. They also would not react as quickly as they were used to and wouldn’t reach their usual power levels with magic. 

They didn’t want it to get out of control in the worst moment so they needed something that would grant them more dark aspected magic to compensate. Drusilla’s proposal was really interesting to them since they had already dealt with someone being inside their body and reaching a point of harmony with them. 

Drusilla was hoping Taigat would attract a very powerful voidsent but instead they got one of the middling tier and she was a bit wary that it could drag them back during their training. She changed her mind when she watched them fight Orcus and how adequately they acted the first time they merged. Afterwards she suggests Taigat that they give it a bit more freedom to design a more powerful enshrouded form.

At first the voidsent didn’t talk much. That was because it had been eaten for a very, very, long time. No one listened to it and its sense of self was maladjusted so it took a while to get out of that mindframe. It understood that it was undertaking a covenant with Taigat, it just didn’t realize by then how many more privileges it would have in this new state.

It very much enjoys the freedom and the power that comes with being partnered with the warrior of light. In the beginning it got very excited easily. It might choose to never eat Taigat. No well, maybe it might. Well, not really. Maybe. noitwont. It just gets to bite them real hard, as a treat.

The voidsent loves to eat like an average living being and its favorite food are rolanberries, especially when Taigat cooks them into a pie just for it. 

When they’re bored Taigat pulls the tips of their cloak and watches it wobble around in the air. It does that just to amuse them.

It always supports Taigat’s first impulses and more improper wishes. If they’re embarrassed maybe they should listen to that part of them that wants to run out of the room and cry where no one is watching. If they finally reunite with someone they missed a lot, they should run to them and hug them as much as they want, ignoring that they need to make a speech in front of the troops and there’s a battle ahead or that just isn’t the relationship they have with that person.

Maybe Fray would have liked the voidsent, once. Now he’s just bothered that Taigat will one day start listening to it and take it seriously so if the knight does appear he dismisses most of its ideas with a glare.

Taigat told it early on that they would be given it a name but when it felt ready to pick one for itself then it could choose a different one, following Viera tradition. Its name is Ageusia. For now.

The voidsent doesn’t care much for its new name but it answers when called. It enjoyed the act of being named more than having it.

Ageusia spent millenia being a part of Scathach and momentarily inside Diabolos Hollow when he absorbed her. It remembers some of their memories as if they were its own. It likes to pretend the acts of terror the nobility enacted were done by its own hand and it loves to exaggerate its influence over them. It has forgotten most of its life and who it was before the 13th fell to darkness.

In my timeline the Shadow of Mhach raids were done by Dyulgor, Taigat’s father, around 80 years before the beginning of ARR. Dyulgor was marked by the experience and he sort of inherited those injuries to Taigat, like shades in their souls to put it metaphorically. Both of them have a much easier time using dark aspected magic and in the voidsent’s senses they can wield a power similar to Scathach. 

Ageusia was expelled from Hollow Diabolos’ body after his death and wandered the void with many difficulties. When Taigat bonded with their soulstone, Ageusia, who was just a leftover of Scathach, saw those shades in Taigat’s call, and itself reflected on them. That’s why it was a viable candidate for Taigat.

After the reaper storyline, Drusilla knew their path would take them back to Garlemald and there really wasn’t a better weapon she could give Taigat but her grandfather’s, the death sickle. She didn’t say it but she hoped that scythe would be the one to kill Solus’ heir and Taigat got the message. They have always wanted to impress her so they silently swore it would be done, truly this time around.

Taigat briefly thought about hiding the voidsent’s existence from others but they know they suck at lying and with the scions it gets worse, plus he just came back from surviving the consequences of Urianger and G’raha hiding things from the group so after Werlyt they just came out and told them. 

Before that, the first person outside of the Lemures that he told was Cid, a bit after the Ruby Weapon had appeared in Ghimlyt Dark. 

Still undecided about how Taigat tells Gaius but I’m leaning on Cid recommending they do not tell him because he was there when Rullus tried to kill Solus. The irony when they reach a point where everyone but him knows makes me smile like a shark. And it hurts because I’m thinking the ghost of Alfonse inside the diamond weapon is the one to tell him. 

Ageusia is busy redesigning their enshrouded form inside Taigat’s body so they have to fight as a dragoon when dealing with the first three Ultima Weapons.

The first person they fought with their improved enshrouded form was Gaius and the diamond weapon. Ageusia got mad they couldn’t brag about how good they beat them. Taigat as expected, felt torn to shreds.

After Werlyt was free and the scions were back from the eorzean version of soul physiotherapy, Tataru made a little meet and greet party and all the scions got to shake the voidsent’s hand. It was awkward af and no one was too pleased but they couldn’t deny that Taigat looked much more healthy than the last time they had reunited.

Taigat’s enshrouded form looks very different in my imagination and to be honest I’m sometimes undecided about the details but the big themes in their look are sharp teeth, the moon and stained glass. Scathach is obviously an inspiration, as well as… Bloodborne’s Moon Presence. Here’s another inspiration. [body horror cw]

About Zenos:

Everyone and their grandma’s neighbor’s cat knows I don’t like Zenos but I do find him choosing to become a reaper interesting. The shb patches was the only time the story made me wish we could learn more about him and watching him blunder in ew was. Well... At least the possession quest was creepy. Because of his crazy scientist from Stormblood, not him. Whatever man I gave him a chance. You’re about to enter my hater’s dungeon… A bit. I just added a bunch of decor but his fate stays pretty much the same. Whom care.

Zenos picked the scythe because he knew a reaper was one of the first rebels to attempt to dethrone his great grandfather and the one that got closest to doing so. He thinks that reapers lost their strength by becoming covert assassins and if they had focused on honing their skills to fight against large groups of people they would have had the upper hand. The scythe is, after all, one of the weapons that causes the enemy as much damage and pain as fast as possible. And he finds it amusing that a tool meant to care for the land was transformed into a weapon of violence and fear. They wasted their power in his opinion.

Fandaniel shares with him more secrets the reapers kept to themselves and finds Rullus’ soulstone in the palace’s treasure vaults for him to use. Before Zenos makes a covenant Fandaniel tells him the chosen voidsent is one that is possibly their 13th counterpart from the same ancient’s soul and he offers to focus the call on the most powerful voidsent available. Zenos refuses and orders him to call for the strongest voidsent that mirrors the soul of Taigat. That turns out to be Zero. 

Future lore wondering intermission: I will probably get contradicted on this but I do want Zero to be Azem’s shard in the 13th. I will be open to their explanation when the time comes because who would have guessed they could turn around Ardbert like that but if I don’t like it I have a backup plan. thx z-nos. For now these headcanons will treat Zero as part of Azem.

I think Fandaniel was very normal about finding out the Warrior of Light used to be his beloved Prometheus by enslaving a part of them to a man he thought was beneath him by virtue of being Emet Selch’s heir. Thousands of years later and he still manages to find ways to hurt Metti without even trying. He hides it though. He’s so fucking normal. (Hermes and Azem were together in my timeline)

Zenos’ control over Zero is much more violent and intentionally sadistic on his part than when a reaper makes a covenant with a treacherous voidsent. Here there are no similarities between the souls so Zero is forced to assimilate to his own, modifying her own body and spirit to somehow find a way to enshroud with him. If anything he’s the one possessing and designing her. She could never rebel against him. On the top three misogynist Zenos moments.

I think in the “choosing a weapon” scene he picked a scythe that was used as a trophy but Fandaniel forged him a completely new one built especially for him.

Zenos was thrilled when he was informed that by virtue of choosing to become a reaper he was offending Taigat and in the dinner scene the conversation takes a turn with Taigat not really controlling their anger well and screaming at the wall about how he’s bringing dishonor to the people who learned how to live with voidsent to protect the people they loved and that he’s nothing but a cosplayer. The garlean wall does not care.

In my timeline, Zenos in Taigat’s body does manage to get inside the Broken Glass Camp but given that he openly attacks Alisaie and G’raha (Alphinaud shields them quickly enough so they’re fine. healer W) they have a town shootout against Zenos. He could have won if he had learned how to sneak around. There are several dead and wounded but Maxima, the guy Fandaniel told Zenos to target since he’s the main advocate for garlean remnants, survives.

On to their final battle: Taigat eats him. 

Ageusia takes several bites out of Zenos after he lands a few hits on Taigat (which amount to them not being cut in half only because the voidsent held them together) but once he’s defeated they do eat him. Fucked up fugue moment Taigat internalizes and doesn’t tell anyone about for months. It heals them just enough to not immediately drop dead. They should have stayed in bed with the best Sharlayan doctors nearby for months.

Now about the most recent history:

Zero could have outright consumed Ageusia and make Taigat blow up if she hadn’t been bonded to the most fucked up reaper in history for months. She has to deal with her own sundered essence and it takes a great deal of energy to heal herself bit by bit while also stopping Ageusia’s attempts to consume her. World’s worst food intoxication.

Reminding everyone that this is my house so Ultima Thule is actually Athena’s wrapped up dimension in outer space where nothing and no one gets out. Zero would have been trapped if Zenos had just been left there. This had to happen. I made it so oops.

Taigat didn’t know what was happening but their voidsent barely responded and soon enough it stopped being able to leave their body while the viera felt pain through it. Despite the long period of repose they feel weaker and weaker. 

The only one they told about it was Gaius. How the tables turned…

When things get much, much worse they leave Terncliff (don’t ask them what they were doing on Terncliff, don’t tell them they should be in Sharlayan, don’t remind them there’s probably a rescue team searching all over Eorzea going crazy just for them) and just tear themselves open with a knife, where their liver is.

You all have watched the first silent hill movie right? Of course you have. Huge thing for me. And literally no one else. Anyway, the way Rose gets stabbed on purpose to let Alessa inside the church? Big inspiration.

Instead of blood, Zero’s essence comes out, slowly remaking herself into the corrupted form Zenos gave her. She’s just as weak as Taigat so when Gaius finds them he easily slays Zero, which sends her back to the void.

Drusilla couldn’t even imagine that Taigat would encounter a reaper so close to their power level so she didn’t tell them about the possible cannibalism situation. She did tell them not to lose their nerve if they were in a dire situation and the voidsent took a bite from their enemies, but not that it could happen to them. She felt terrible after Taigat asked her about it, months later.

Before that however, they brought back Rullus’ scythe and his soulstone as a gift, which Drusilla appreciated very much. Taigat fulfilled their little wish of impressing her. *final fantasy victory tune*. The Lemures made a little homecoming party and celebrated Drusilla having a part of her grandfather back. It’s sweet to me that, outside of Fray and his unique situation, Drusilla is the mentor Taigat feels closest to. 

And that’s most of it! If you went through all that, thank you for reading!

#oc: taigat #rel: hurt suffer heal #caracora

[milkdreamspecialmix]

about veneciano’s eyes (=ヮ=)೨☆

i generally dislike many psychological headcannons as they’re often uninformed or rely on misunderstood and stereotypical ideals of certain illnesses/disorders. it also comes at the risk of watering a character down into a slew of micro labels instead of focusing on all traits holistically. i personally find it more interesting when characters aren’t overly pathologized, but it’s all purely subjective when you think about it

that being said, i can’t help but think it’d be interesting if vene is prone to keeping his eyes closed due to some flavor of sensory processing issues or as a result of conflict, past or present.

i’ve seen a lot of takes on this trait and i like to think of it as just another enigmatic/unexplained side of him. see “The Bravest of Men (and Nations)”, a oneshot that is actually germany centric but acknowledges vene’s “strange (but beautiful) eyes” in a way that suggests he may be hiding certain emotions or insecurities by keeping them half-lidded or closed. i think it also suggests it’s just another peculiar part of him, which works well with germany’s constant attempts to make sense of vene in canon. he’s simply nonsensical, and that whimsy is part of what makes him such a great character. it’s been a bit since i’ve read that fic so take my comments on it’s subject matter with a grain of salt

i’ve seen several fics that portray him as blind, which makes sense due to his clumsiness. i could see him as being legally/partially blind as well. some have even speculated that his vocal tic might be a form of echolocation. but i prefer it as more of a purely vocal tic myself.

all of this eye talk gets me thinking about this

which kind of implies the general nation-public hadn’t seen his eyes open before. i was thinking of compiling instances of both of his eyes being open at some point... the most prominent ones i think of (not including any promotional material) seem be to associated with his curiosity, feeling content, and being surprised.

there’s also this one unfinished LJ fic from ages ago about a autistic-coded and especially eccentric vene spying on fireman!germany (??) while he showers from a neighboring apartment (???) as inspiration for his airport thriller novels (????) and i’m pretty sure there’s attention to his eyes in that one. he’s depicted as a little higher-needs (as in he relies on romano for some things despite maintaining his own apartment) and a bit agoraphobic/lacking in understanding of social cues, but still extroverted and well-meaning. i recall thinking it was cute, i’ll try to find it. but i’m getting off track

back to my original point, i think vene could reasonably have a combination of any of these things and we wouldn’t know because we rarely ever see things from his internal perspective.

we do know that he fawns a lot in order to diffuse situations and that he’s very prone to being nervous about how others perceive him, so the closed eyes also serve the purpose of shielding him from a multitude of things.

they also just make him look a bit silly, which i’m sure was the original purpose. he’s kept them open a lot more in recent years, and especially now that he’s impersonating his brother. i wonder if his eyes will give him away if germany manages to nab those sunglasses

#my brain is nothing more than a library of gerita fics and references #kinda sad actually lol #aph italy #hws italy #hetalia #headcannons #canon #my stuff #sperg sesh lol

[gleefultogo]

Opinion

you know? Could you imagine being a character in kique's comic. and lets say that again said characters do get upset about things etc etc, but they kinda just sit on their ass and do nothing about it?. I'll be honest, lately I have this frustration on the way kique handles a characters "problem" going back and seeing in previous pages. and well I strongly dislike how he constantly uses "sex/intercourse" as a clutch to somewhat "cure" a trauma or something. To me, I feel that is just very unrealistic. and because since kique is die hard trying to push these feral, animal and dog characters to come off as human. I'll talk about it as it was reality. First of all, If I was a person who say was in a relationship and my partner was in a bad state of mind mentally. I wouldn't be a person and throw myself towards them sexually, I feel its just wrong in a way? If anything using sex comes off as more of a "in the moment" type of thing. If you get what I mean, like a distraction? Personally I don't think it helps anyone get better when mentally unstable. And I'm just tired of kique's characters being magically cured all because they slept with each other. like huh? again it's just a distraction. But it's used as a constant cycle in his comic. Realistically it would come off as something unhealthy. like i'm sorry but if you had a partner that was constantly in a bad mental state or something and need sexual intercourse just to make them feel better. UGH it was just get really tiring you know?. like it would lose the whole purpose of being "intimate" with your said partner because it's constantly forcefully used in a way that doesn't come off as romantic. Half the characters in this comic who did do the deed. For me it wasn't romantic in anyway, cause fuck kique's patreon supporters. They clearly don't understand the difference. Because let's be honest here, but who in their right minds would wanna have sex with each other knowing 1. A family member of yours might die due to a raid, clearly knowing about it. But you sit on your ass and screw someone out in public? like what? (Feaf and Rhov) like you couldn't wait until there was a bit of peace in your life first? 2. Finding out that your family member died, so someone forces themselves onto you. ok look we all know that rogio is a scummy predator. but if these characters were written more realistically. Then I am certain roamer would of pushed rogio away. Heck I wouldn't wanna sleep with someone after I just talked about my dead friend. That's just weird 3. Knowing that partial family members of yours are nearby. So out of excitement you forcefully kiss someone, then proceed to lead them on? I know keirr and bootleg kargo didn't sleep with each other. But I'm trying to point out that the whole situation wasn't romantic in anyway and the fact that people were shipping them just because they "kissed" is ridiculous. It pretty much just shows that a lot of the patreon people are in it for the sex stuff. I suppose it is ok to have adult content in your comics, movies and stuff. But it being a constant cycle of the same stuff happening, It never really sat right with me and I don't enjoy it. Because with kique's characters there is no chemistry between the characters what so ever. it all so forced. but you see what I am trying to get at here? None of these characters talk about there problems or try and fix them. we just get constant self pity, having sex and then everything is all magically better. When actions speak louder then words. stop feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it. No one is gonna do it for you. Anyways... Happy Valentines day? lol

#kique7 #kique nordin #asmundr #home comic #asmundrhome #home #bad dog comics #kique #asmundrcomic #dog comic

[wedreamedlove]

How does all 5 of them love the Mc differently?

Osborn loves with extreme partiality. you can do no wrong in his eyes (as long as you don't cross his bottom principles like harming innocents or lying). he lets you do whatever you want at your own pace and he'll be standing right behind you, glaring at anyone who even looks at you wrongly. two of my favorite examples of this extreme partiality is during his 2022 birthday event where he says (paraphrased) that even if you cause such a ruckus that the bar roof falls down, he'll be there to hold it up; the other one is in his personal route after the talk with Merodach and Osborn thinks you have an "oh and one more thing" and offers to phone Merodach so you can continue cussing him out LOL.

Jesse loves like a companion and accomplice. you're both still on the road of growing and so there's a constant swap of the person who leads the way for the other person. neither of you know what you're doing and so you're stumbling through the relationship together, but that makes it so you're equals.

Charlie loves with a freedom of innocence. you will either get in touch of your inner child or be able to give it free reign regardless of where you are. he teaches you to have no shame in being exactly who you are and to see the beauty and romance in this world, no matter how cheesy it is. you will learn to love everything bright and loud when you're with him.

Sariel loves selflessly and sacrificially. honestly, i just need to point at his Cinnamoroll collab date. i cried really hard reading that date because he just loves you so, so, so much. he doubts himself and hates himself for not being able to give you "better" things whenever you're happy at anything he does. he wants you to live the best life you can live, even if that means being without him. in fact, he believes that he's a calamity in your life and brings a heavy burden to you and so, even while he paves a road for you, he will also back off and leave immediately if you ever say the word.

Evan loves in an unconditional and challenging way. he wants you to be as independent as you can be, and so this involves challenging your ideas and getting you to debate him. he will always go at your pace though and never rejects any of your ideas. he wants you to be able to live without him if need be, so you need to be strong enough to stop him or push him away whenever you want. he knows just how cruel this world can be, and so he'll only be content when you're able to protect yourself, either from the world or him.

#answered asks #光与夜之恋 #light and night #LN Osborn #LN Charlie #LN Evan #LN sariel #LN Jesse #LN Xiao Yi #ln zha lisu #LN Lu Chen #LN qi sili #LN Xia Mingxing