#Both of them are pretty and both of them are valid

[hxbbit]

Darkest Desires (Void x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, all you wanted was to be distracted, to forget. Wishing that Bob could just stop being so nice and pin you down, do all those filthy things you don't dare say out loud. Too bad Bob can't hear your thoughts or read your mind. But someone else can...

Warnings: Unprotected sex, face fucking, choking and breath play, spit play, dom/sub dynamics, degradation and humiliation, dub!con (bob), slight voyeurism, name calling, afab!reader, no use of name or y/n,... lmk if I forget something, but really it's just pure filth.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: This is just absolutely self indulgent smut, cause there was a serious lack of Void!Bob fics imo. The last fic I've posted/wrote anything for public consumption was like 4 years ago, so I might be a little rusty, but I'm still pretty satisfies with how it turned out. Also not super proof read. I hope you enjoy it, though! Comments, reblogs and likes would be greatly appreciated... I need validation lol

It was so quiet on the ride back, you could’ve heard a pin drop. 

No one spoke, no laughter. Just the low rumbling of the truck engine and the occasional ticking of the indicator, but you barely even registered that. Your thoughts were swirling. Overthinking and replaying every single step of the mission and how it could end so badly. 

All of the hostages got killed. And the bad guys got away. 

You should’ve done more, done things differently, maybe come up with a better plan. It was rushed because it was a very time sensitive mission, but you had to at least try. 

The reality was, there was nothing you could’ve done and deep down you knew that. Didn’t mean you had to accept it, though. 

A quick look around the truck told you that the others were probably thinking similar things. Solemn faces on each and every one of them. Even Alexei kept his mouth shut for once. That was a big indicator on how badly things had gone. He was usually the first one to try and motivate everyone or make a dumb joke. 

Silence was only broken when you got back into the tower and Bob came striding towards the group. 

“How did it go?” There was a hopeful and cheery tone to his voice and a small smile on his face that dropped immediately when he really took everyone in. 

“What do you think?” Walker spat back, before turning towards his room, door slamming. 

Bob knew not to take it personally, but you could still tell that he felt guilty. His face always betrayed his every emotion.

He then looked at you. And you just shook your head, not ready for words yet. 

You were closer to Bob than the rest, understood each other wordlessly. When you met something just clicked and since then you have basically been dancing around your feelings for one another. Hesitant because you were working and living together. Both still dealing with your own demons and issues.

And even though it was an unspoken thing, everyone knew, but no one dared mention it.  

You needed a shower. Showering after a mission was essential, not only to clean the physical grime off you, but it also helped with the unseen. As if the water would wash away the sins and worries, cleansing everything. 

You were just stepping out of the bathroom, still wrapped in a towel when someone knocked at your door. You had a feeling who it could be. 

“Come in,” you said, loud enough to be heard on the other side. 

The door slowly opened and as expected, Bob stepped inside. 

As soon as he had looked at you, he looked away again towards the floor, his face tinted slightly red. 

“Uh- sorry - I uh- just wanted to ask if you were okay…” He trailed off, hands still on the doorknob, slightly fidgeting. Sparing a quick glance towards you. The towel around your body covered all the important bits, but it was more skin than Bob usually got to see. The few droplets of water that were still shimmering on your skin or fell from your wet hair and slid down the curves of your body didn’t help much either, his eyes drawn to them.

“No,” you answered honestly. “But I will be.” 

A sad hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was nice of Bob to check in on you and for a split second a part of you wished he wasn’t so nice and considerate. That part of you wished he would just rip that towel off you, throw you on your bed and take you, making you forget all about that failed mission for little while. 

But you didn’t think Bob was the type to do that. He was gentle, loving Bob who couldn’t even kill a spider, always scared to wake the Sentry or the Void, so he pushed those things down. Kept his emotions in check. 

It was something that also made you hesitate to pursue a relationship with him. You weren’t sure he could handle or satisfy those darker desires. 

“Alright, well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.” He managed to actually look at your face this time, a faint blush still staining his cheeks and he tried to give you a reassuring smile. He was about to leave you and close the door when you stopped him. 

“Bob?”

He looked at you expectantly, brows slightly knitted together. 

You were so close. So close to saying to hell with it and asking him to stay. To spend the night with you, to fuck you until the only thing on your mind was him and how good he made you feel. 

The words were at the tip of your tongue, ready to spill out, when at the last second you decided against it. He didn’t deserve to be used for your selfish needs. 

“Thank you,” you whispered instead. His brows relaxed but instead you could’ve sworn that a shadow flickered in his eyes. Just as quick as it had appeared, it disappeared again and you weren’t even sure if what you saw was real. 

“Yeah, of course.” A reassuring smile lit up his face and he moved to close the door with a soft click behind him. 

Walking back into the bathroom, you finished drying your hair and body, putting on your underwear and a big t-shirt to get ready for bed. 

It was strangely chilly as you stepped back into your bedroom and pushed back the blankets. You looked towards the window. Closed. Glanced towards the air-conditioning unit, but it was also off. 

You looked towards the door and there he was. 

Bob but not Bob. 

Void. 

Last time you saw him was such a long time ago, you almost forgot what it felt like to be in his presence. 

He was darkness personified. A figure drenched in night. The deepest shade of black. 

He was sucking in all the light around him and reflecting none. 

Except for his eyes. 

That glint in his eyes the only indicator of what - or who - he was looking at. And right now, he was looking at you. You stood frozen. 

People don’t realize how eerie and uncanny it was, seeing a person but not at all being able to see their face or read their expressions. The only hint was him slightly cocking his head as he seemingly took you in. 

��Bob?” You asked quietly, knowing that it wasn’t him you were dealing with. 

“Bob’s not in control right now,” he replied.

“Don’t worry, he wants this too.” The voice came from all around you and was inside your head at the same time. 

You didn’t know what to do. There were protocols and rules in place in case Bob lost control, but somehow you couldn’t do anything right now. Never have you frozen during a mission, but this was completely different. 

“Come now, don’t be so shy,” Void continued speaking and it made goosebumps rise on your skin. He still sounded like Bob, but just like the rest of him, it was darker, deeper, huskier. 

It was also smoother, no stuttering or stumbling over words. 

Void took a step closer to you but you still couldn’t move. 

“I know what lurks inside you. I can see it all. There is no hiding it from me.” He kept coming closer, each step silent as he moved. 

For a moment you were confused, not knowing what he meant. Until he stood right in front of you. So close that you had to look up to still be able to look into his eyes, as they were taking in your whole body unashamedly and with intention. 

And then he looked at your face again. Eyes boring into yours. 

Staring at him so up close was like being in a dark room, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the darkness. Eventually you could make out the contours of his face.

“I know you want to be fucked. Degraded. Made to submit,” the voice purred as he was raising a hand up to your face and slid his knuckles down your cheek. A breath hitched in your throat. Pulse quickening. 

“Your thoughts were practically screaming it earlier. Like a little slut.” Void let out a low chuckle and you could make out a smirk on his face. 

“But that’s exactly what you are, isn’t it? A needy little slut begging to be fucked.” He now traced the thumb of his raised hand over your lips. 

You knew there was something very wrong with you, but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch and feel arousal start to build in your body. A soft pulling sensation low in your belly. And a wetness between your legs, which had you involuntarily clench your thighs together. 

Because Void wasn’t wrong. In fact he was so, so right. 

His thumb on your lip moved from your bottom lip to push into your mouth and you opened it, let him inside. The pad pressed down on your tongue and you instinctively wrapped your lips around his digit, sucking on it. 

All too quickly he pulled it back out of your mouth, dragging it over your chin and down your jaw. His hand moving into your neck where they found purchase in your hair. 

The grip tightening, as he was closing the gap between you. His body now flush against yours, he pulled your head back further, making you look at his face as a quiet moan slipped from your lips. 

You could now feel the solid panes of his torso against yours as well as the hardness of his arousal. Your body arched against him, wanted to feel more of him. Be closer. ´

“God, you’re so fucking eager, it’s embarrassing.” Again he let out a soft laugh and this time you felt it rumble in his chest against yours. 

“Please…” It was the only word you could manage. And even then you didn’t really know what you were asking for. You just knew you needed more.

“What is it you want?” 

Not even thinking about it, the word simply spilled from your mouth. 

“You.”

He leaned in even closer and you could feel his breath fanning over your face. 

“Is it me you want or Bob?” 

That caught you off guard and you didn’t know how to reply. Of course it was Bob. Bob who you’d been harboring feelings for, for so long. But you wondered much of him was Void? And how much of Void was him? Guilt cut through your arousal at the mention of him, sharp and sickening. Was he aware of what was happening?

Void leaned in closer until his lips grazed your ear. 

“He’s watching right now.” The words were whispered. 

Bob watching. A voyeur. The idea twisted something deep in your gut. Filthy and wrong, stoking the flames of your arousal. 

“Open your mouth.” Those were not the words you expected from him and you didn’t immediately react. He gave your hair a sharp tug. 

“I said open. your. mouth.” His other hand came up, gripping your jaw. This time you complied, opening your mouth and you felt you knew what was coming. 

He leaned over you a little more and when his face was directly parallel to yours, he spat into your open and waiting mouth. His spit hit your tongue, mixing with your own saliva. 

“Swallow,” he ordered. You obeyed. Something about the depravity of it, made you let out a whimper and bite your bottom lip. Trying to keep more sounds from coming out.

His grip in your hair relaxed but was still holding on to you. The other one slid from your jaw down to rest at your throat.

“Good girl,” he muttered, smiling again. This time you could see the flash of his teeth and heat was blooming inside you, happy to have pleased him. Eager to do it again. 

“Now what if I told you this was all you’re going to get?” Void asked. 

“What?” It caught you off guard, panic rising inside of you. You needed more. 

“Because if you want more, you’re going to have to work for it. That’s what whores do. And you do, don’t you? Want more?” Now it was his other hand whose grip tightened, fingers digging into the sides of your throat, slowly cutting off your blood flow. 

“Yes. Yes I want more,” You ground out, voice trembling, your vision starting to blur at the edges until the only thing you could still see was him.

That’s when Void released you. Hands dropping to his sides and taking a step back. You needed a second, head still spinning, vision going back into focus.

“Then get on your knees.”

Immediately and embarrassingly fast you dropped to your knees. The floor hard underneath them. You were sure that you’d have bruises tomorrow, but you couldn’t find yourself to care right now. 

Glancing up once more, you were met with the shining look of his eyes, head cocked to the side, observing. 

Lifting your hands, you reached to open the button of his pants, pulling down the zipper and freeing his cock. Of course you had fantasized about Bob before, but even in your wildest imagination, you didn’t imagine him like this. Even in his all encompassing blackness, you could tell he was perfectly long and thick and felt heavy in your hands. It made your mouth water, just looking at him, and you needed to taste him. 

“Go on,” he encouraged, but you didn’t really need it.

You started by dragging your tongue over the underside, from his base to the tip in one broad stroke and then closed your mouth around the top. You moaned at the weight and taste of him on your tongue, slowly moving up and down on him. Trying to fit as much into your mouth as you could, lips stretching, and taking him deep, but it was not easy. Not only because of his size, but also because of how hard and rigid he was. 

Void let you work at your own speed. But you could feel him grow impatient. His hand found your hair once more, tangling in it and started guiding your movements. Faster, harder. You let go of his cock and placed down on his thighs, finding purchase there. 

In time, his hips started moving too, thrusts matching your rhythm, pushing in as you were moving towards him. 

You started gagging when he hit you especially deep. Forcing himself down your throat, making tears blur your vision. You looked up at him and saw that he had thrown his head back, chest heaving. And over the sound of your own gagging you could even hear him moan. 

Seeing the effect you had on him, spurred you on more. 

You tried opening your throat more, relaxing to take him deeper and slowly breathe through your nose. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he ground out, pushing you even harder down his cock and holding you there until you couldn’t breathe anymore and he was so far down your throat, sputtering around him. The sudden need to breathe made you want  to pull back, but Void held you in place. 

“Shhh, you can take it.” He was breathless but there was also an air of amusement to his voice. He obviously enjoyed hearing and seeing you suffer. 

Digging your nails into his thighs, you tried to hold on and when he finally released you and pulled your head back you desperately gasped for air. Threads of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. 

“Is this what you fantasized about? Mouth wrecked, crying, being used like a whore?” He mocked and you only nodded still trying to catch your breath, but you knew that he didn’t really need your confirmation. 

Before you could verbally answer, he shoved his cock back down your throat and started fucking your face again. Faster this time. Merciless. His tip making you gag repeatedly, your throat clenching around it while spit flowed from your mouth, pooling in your lap.

“You’re just a mouth to fuck. Nothing more,” he growled, still keeping his brutal rhythm. 

“But you’re taking it so well.”

It was almost too much, not enough air filling your lungs, on the verge of passing out when he finally released you. Tears were now freely streaming down your cheeks and you collapsed in on yourself. Taking in heaving breaths. 

And then, to your utter confusion, Void got down on his knees, too, He was on your level now and took your face in his hands wiping away the tears with his thumbs. Then the spit from your mouth.

“If only you could see yourself right now. So wrecked but absolutely beautiful. My perfect little slut.”

The sincerity in his voice surprised you, but what surprised you even more was when he leaned in and kissed you for the first time.

It was surprisingly gentle, his lips sliding over yours, but hunger was hidden within. A promise that he wasn’t done with you just yet. 

A part of you thinks you should’ve pulled away, felt ashamed or disgusted. But you didn’t. Instead you craved his approval and eagerly kissed back.

Void wrapped his arm around you and pulled you up to stand with him, placing you down on shaky feet. He grabbed the bottom hem of your oversized t-shirt, becoming aware for the first time how little you've been wearing the entire time. Pulling it over your head and discarding it to the side. Then he hooked his fingers into your panties and pulled them down, letting them drop to the floor. You stepped out of them, kicking them towards where your shirt was laying.

For a moment Void was simply staring at your body. The glint of his eyes roaming over your shape so intensely, it made you want to cover up yourself with your hands. But then his hands joined in on the exploration. Moving over your hips and waist, to your tummy and breasts, squeezing them, circling your nipples, before sliding one hand down between your legs, finding your dripping center. 

That smirk appeared on his lips again, eyes shining. 

"I knew you would be wet... but this..." he trailed off, shook his head amusedly as he slowly glided two fingers between your slick folds, grazing your clit on the way there and making a shiver run through your whole body. And finally he eased those two fingers inside you, with almost no friction, pumping them slowly in and out, knuckle deep.

Finally being touched by him felt like ecstasy. Wanton moans escaped your lips with every movement, eyes screwed shut, trying to take in all the pleasure. After all this build up, you knew that it wouldn't take much to make you come. 

As if he had read your mind, he withdrew his fingers and slid them into his mouth instead. Making you watch as he sucked them clean with a grin. Tension coiled tight in your body, making you squirm as you were waiting for his next move.

Once he was done, he pulled his fingers from his mouth and placed his hands on your hips once more, quickly spinning you around.

With your back now to his front, he pushed you towards the bed. 

"Get on all fours," he commanded. Quickly you crawled onto the bed and got into position. 

You glanced over your shoulder as he discarded the rest of his clothes and then kneeled behind you. He stroked your back with his hands and squeezed your ass before he placed a sharp smack on it. You flinched but stayed in place. He repeated the same process a few more times until your butt cheeks felt hot and burning. 

"I can practically see you dripping, your pussy so desperate for my cock.” He started sliding the tip of his cock through your folds, gathering up some of the wetness and spreading it over his length. 

When he pushed in, without warning or hesitation, you were seeing stars. For so long you have wanted this, to feel Bob - Void - inside of you. 

One deep and swift push and he was fully seated inside you. There was a stretch, a slight burn, but you were so wet and ready that it was bearable and even pleasant. Feeling your body try to accommodate him, taking everything he had to give. 

He waited a few seconds for you to adjust and then started moving. His hands grabbed your hips tight in a bruising grip and every thrust was forcing a moan out of you. You pushed back, grinding against him.

"Your pussy feels so perfect, like it's made for my cock." He rasped out, moans escaping his lips too. Hearing him degrade you was filthy and beautiful, but the praise… it made you feel thing you weren’t sure you were supposed to feel. Not for the Void. 

One of his hands slid up your back between your shoulder blades, pushing your front down against the mattress.

It allowed him to angle your hips more, hitting even deeper inside you. Gripping your bedsheets, digging your nails into the fabric you also buried your face in the sheets, muffling the sounds of your moans slightly. 

His hand smoothed over the surface of your ass, before his thumb landed on your asshole, circling it, applying slight pressure but not quite pushing in. Stilling your own movements, you no longer pushed back. Letting him take complete control again. 

You let out a whimper, not knowing if you wanted him to do it or spare you some dignity.

"Oh yeah, I'm thinking about it..." he mused, still fucking you, but having slowed a little. 

"And I know you'd let me do it too, my dirty little slut. Let me claim your every hole. Make you mine completely." He kept going for a few seconds longer, making you wait. The air around you heavy with anticipation. Because he was right, you would let him. 

"But I think I'll wait until next time."

Next time... the words barely registering in your lust-addled mind, but had a deeper meaning.

He reached for your throat, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against his chest. His other one snaked around your waist first up towards your boobs, giving your nipples each a hard pinch and tugging on them.  Then further down towards your clit, starting to rub circles there. All the while still rutting into you from behind. 

It didn't take long, your own climax building up so rapidly. The combination of him rubbing your clit, his hand on your throat applying pressure and feeling his whole body pressed against you as he was hitting those deliciously deep spots inside you. 

You clung onto his arms, trying to keep him in place but you knew that he was stronger than you and he easily moved his hand away from your core.

"Oh, you're not gonna come yet... maybe I won't even let you come at all. Keep you a desperate, wanting mess. Utterly ruined without even finding your own release, just to keep you begging for more.” The voice was right by your ear.

"No please!" You cried out. You knew he would do it and that he would enjoy watching you suffer. 

"I need it. Need to come,” you continued.

"Need it?" He laughed. "If you need it so bad, why don't you beg for it?" 

Tears were beginning to prickle at the corner of your eyes once again but this time out of sheer frustration. Your last shred of dignity wanted you to keep your mouth shut, thinking that you could just make yourself come afterwards. But you knew it wouldn't be the same. You needed him to grant you the release, to be the one to bestow it upon you. The desperate part of your mind won.

"Please Void, please! Please let me come. I need it so bad. I want you to make me come, please!" The words were spilling from your lips, continuous. Breathless, lips quivering.

"All right, I'll help you out.” You could barely hear it, lost in your begging. Still chanting please, please, please over and over again like a prayer to this god of darkness, as he moved his fingers back onto your clit. In mere seconds, the coil that was so tightly wound inside of you, finally snapped. Pleasure releasing all throughout your body in probably the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced, blinding and all consuming, your whole body shaken by it.

And as those waves were still washing over you, a faint voice in the very back of your mind stirred. 

He should not be able to make you feel like it. You should not have let him do this.

Deep down you knew, the voice was right. You have now crossed a line and there was no going back.

If it wasn't for Void holding you up, you probably would've slumped forward onto the bed. Limp and spent. 

You knew that he was chasing his own release now. His thrusts becoming faster, his grip on your body tightened and with one last deep thrust and a low groan, he spilled himself inside of you. For a little while you just stayed like that, both with heaving breaths while still connected. 

He then slipped out of you and without him holding you in place, immediately collapsed back onto your front. The soft mattress catching you. Only able to move so your head could rest on one of the pillows. Between your legs, his release was beginning to seep out of you, slick and warm and sticky. 

Void came to sit down on the edge of the bed and he reached a hand out and gently stroked over your hair. And for a split second you could see a hint of Bob in that action. 

"Fucking perfect," he whispered, head cocked to the side as he took you in. 

You tried to fight it, but couldn't any longer, your eyelids too heavy, slowly falling shut. You were barely conscious, drifting off to sleep when you heard the voice again.

"He doesn't deserve you.” The dark voice whispered in your head. “But I do.”

Tags: @trelaney

[thecinnamonr0ll]

So I just saw your thing to batsandbirdbrains (I hope that’s the correct name) and am so happy someone else who follows them also knows about bats-and-the-birds since I think their ideas aren’t the exact same there is a lot of common themes.

While I love the idea of the younger boys just completely misinterpreting when Bruce talks about the first two robins based on their assumptions after knowing the adult versions. But sometimes I like to think through what would happen if the slant Bruce puts on the stories comes from his own pov and the flaws of memory.

Like so with Dick as he ages and matures and chills (externally at least) Bruce doesn’t remember the difficult times as well, partly due to nostalgia partly due to that thing that happens to parents where they forget how difficult kids are and just remember the cute parts. So while young dick has that anger to him there was also joy and when Bruce thinks back he thinks of that joy first.

Then with Jason while he was I really pretty happy there is an aggression/rough edge to him that he developed from crime alley, and while Bruce and dick by raising had to be performers and can hide that edge, Jason doesn’t know how to hide it. To him being defensive isn’t rude it’s how he knows to keep himself safe. But for the most part he’s just happy to have shelter and food and books. Then he does in the way he does and it devastates Bruce. And Bruce keeps thinking about how things could have been different is Jason just listened (even though he normally did) and Bruce hyperfixates on that to the point it masks any of the good memories.

And then of course Jason comes back as hood and it just validates everything Bruce has been thinking about him (aggressive, violent, out of control)

Then you can add what this does to Jason, to wake up from the Lazarus out severely traumatized and just so incredibly angry. But sometimes he gets the flashes of being happy and laughing with Bruce. But Jason can’t tell if those memories are really real or he just wants to believe in them and it’s just a fantasy cooked up in his very messed up head. Then he goes to Gotham and sees how everyone reacts to him after the reveal and it just reinforces to him that he’s always been this way and yeah. U think there’s just a lot of angst potential there.

Either way hopefully my semi insane rambling makes sense. I know both headcanons don’t really work together, but I think they are both just interesting and someone could tell very intesting stories with both. Just different vibes for different moods.

Either way, hope you have a good morning/day/evening/night. And that I don’t bother you to much by sending this

OH MY GOD YOU ABSOLUTE GENIUS

I love how these scenario works like a Mandela effect, bruce remembering more of the memories similar to his newer memories ( talking about Jason running away, instead of him helping uplift the people around him) and saying those first, talking about Jason’s disobedience and defensiveness, and only talking about that, because maybe if he warns the other kids, he won’t lose them and thinking back to Dick’s Joy first because that’s how he is of him nowadays (also his ignorance of Jaybin’s typical demeanor, in favor of the bad apples in his memories, is so intriguing to imagine)

also, Jason thinking that his Happiness is just a fantasy, a dream he could never have, is so good, he thinks that he was always this angry kid, who would provoke and fight those around him, that he never had happiness, that his whole life he only had grief, pain, and anger. (The Lazarus twisting his mind to only remember the worst is an additional interesting idea, that I might just have to write)

idea for Dick to think of Jaybin in a ‘bad’ light, we know he has hallucinations, so what if the two began to blend together in his thoughts, he begins to think of the boy hi would follow him around with stars in his eyes as the shadow blaming him for the death of his baby brother

Another idea, it could be added to a fic ‘past goes to the future fic’

so basically, in that fic, Jason might’ve been cursed by some magician/villain to ‘regain his inner child’ and the Batfamily meets this boy who spends most of his time reading, doing homework, or chatting with Alfred. I want Jason to look at this boy and realize that those flashes of happiness are real. I want him to look at this boy who giggles while running around in his Traffic light costume and realize that he was that boy.

also slightly different tangent, let’s say this is one of those Vaguely bad brother Dick, (more so angry at Bruce and pushing it onto Jason) Pre-Jason’s death, it’s be interesting to see if Jason thinks that the pit tainted his memories of Dick, and though he was the same he is now, (I think this could be an interesting especially if Dick blames himself for not being there for Jason, for not being able to save him)

I love your ideas, the thought of the Batfamily (Bruce) ignoring how the robins actually were in favor of the idea he creates in his head is so interesting!!!

I love when people ramble to me, you could have sent me a whole scientific research paper sized ask and I’d be bowing down and thanking you!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Club Sex (John Walker)

Description: John gets jealous seeing his girl and Bucky dancing on the dance floor.

Warning: Smut, Dick Riding, Humiliation, Public Sex

Word Count: 821

Request: john walker semi/public smut 😞

It didn’t take much to rile up John, he had huge jealousy issues and needed validation every 10 minutes it seemed. She was playing a dangerous game during this mission, one that had John nearly growling. Bucky chuckled as she danced her way over to him so they can talk about the mission.

John didn’t like seeing them that close as she wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. From John’s point of view it looked seductive, in reality it wasn’t. He hated that he had to be the look out and couldn’t be with this girl but Bucky knew the owner and it made more sense but as his hands wandered all over her body, John stopped caring. “Do you see him?” Bucky asked her as he looked behind her.

She shook her head and didn’t notice John was there until he nearly snatched her out of Bucky’s arms, “Do you guys have to be so close?” He growled. She pushed him back a little and yelled over the music, “Do you really have to do this here, John? You’re gonna blow our cover.” She whispered the last part and looked around for the owner. “So you have to fuck him?” She huffed and rolled her eyes, “No John we are dancing.”

Basically fucking, he thought. She looked at Bucky who was now dancing with someone else, she let out a sigh and grabbed John’s hand pulling him through the crowd. She was annoyed, the anger she felt towards him radiating off her as she found a couch that wasn’t taken. She nearly threw John down on the couch. Everyone was dancing and dry humping as the music blasted through the speakers, John looked up at her confused before she straddled him.

She smirked, feeling his hard dick against her, “Really? Here?” He questioned but he wasn’t complaining. She shrugged, “Yeah since you can’t control your jealousy issues.” He feels her hand palm him and it takes everything in him not to beg. Luckily with them being in public she couldn’t tease him that much. Both her hands worked his jeans as his hands were on her ass, he stared up at her in awe as she got his hard dick out of his pants, “Fuck you’re so pretty.” He says and she smirks at him before rubbing him on her very wet pussy.

He gasped as he realized that she wasn’t wearing panties. He gripped her hips harder, “So you were dancing with Bucky with no panties?” He hated the idea even more but it was so hot right now. She sunk down onto him before either could say anything else, she looked around to see that nobody was paying attention to them. She looked back at John and bit her lip, shivering as she took him in.

“You happy now?” She asked, teasing as she barely moved her hips. He groaned and gripped her hips, wanting to move her on his own but she saw the look in his eyes, “We do this my way or I leave you here, dick out and everything.” She warns and his hands still, believing her words. He had never met a woman like her, never been with one until her. She had some dominance over him that he was sure he’d never give up.

But as she rode his dick moaning softly, he realized that he found the control she had quite hot. The public club setting where they could be caught at any moment made their orgasms approach faster, “Y-you’re already clo-close.” She points out, her voice shaky with need. He nodded, feeling her spasm around him, she was close too. He looked drunk, fucked out on her pussy as she stopped caring if anyone was watching them.

All she cared about was making them cum. She grabbed his face, “I’m riding you in a crowd of people, so I don’t wanna hear anything about me and Bucky doing a mission together, understand me?” She nearly moaned the last part and he nodded, panting like a dog. “Fuck.” He groaned and she felt him fill her up, triggering her own release. It took all her strength not to collapse on his chest as her orgasm hit her like a truck.

It took them a second to get off of cloud nine before she looked around and got off him with shaky legs. She wiped the drool and sweat off her face and tried to make it seem like they weren’t just fucking.“Feel better?” She asked and he nodded, not really being able to talk. She looked down and nearly laughed, “I’d put your dick away before someone else sees.” She tells him with a wink and walks back to Bucky. Wow, what a woman, he thought as she stared at her going back to the dance floor like nothing happened, totally forgetting about his soft dick.

[maybanksbaby]

warnings .ᐟ puppy being her clingy, bitey, body-worshipping little self while he’s just amused and soft about it. cause he's not all skinny and noodle-arms like she remembered, yay!!!

warnings .ᐟ puppy!reader x drew starkey — uhh, big yummy biceps maybe???

a/n i missed my big, tall baby so much. i live for his arms, i mean it. made this with puppy!reader cause that's a really valid reaction and how i would react. bunny or deer wouldn't pass the vibe 😮‍💨.

PART 1

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Drew’s halfway through changing his shirt when you pounce.

“Mmf! Hey—what’re you—” He laughs as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind, fingers already pressing into the hard ridges of his abs like you’re trying to memorize the way they shift under your touch.

You let out a dramatic little whimper, cheek smooshed against his back. “You’re getting so biiig,” you say, voice all muffled and dreamy. “Like—buff-buff. Grr-buff.”

He snorts, reaching down to gently pat your hands. “'Grr-buff'? Is that a scientific term, baby?”

You nod against his skin. “Mhm. I studied. I’m a professional muscle inspector. Thank God, i missed them.”

“Is that why you’re squeezing me like a stress ball?”

You hum, now trailing your fingers along his V-line like it personally offended you. “Not my fault you keep getting bigger,” you pout. “It’s like—I have to bite you. There’s no other choice. It’s primal, Joseph. Like a puppy instinct.”

He laughs so hard his stomach shakes under your palms. “You did not just say primal. Or called me Joseph.”

But you’re already sinking your teeth gently into the swell of his shoulder, lips curling into a giddy little grin as he flinches and swats at you with a faux glare.

“Ow! You actually bit me, you maniac.”

“Just a nibble!” you defend, peeking up at him with wide, unrepentant eyes and your cheek squished against his newly massive bicep now. “You’re just so—mmf! You’re like… one of those big strong dogs that lets a tiny puppy climb all over him—i'm the tiny one, by the way. I had to!”

He stares down at you like he wants to both laugh and kiss you until you melt.

“You know you could’ve just said you’re proud of me, right?”

You blink up at him, confused. “I did! With my teeth!”

He just shakes his head, chuckling again as he lifts you up effortlessly, arms flexing as he settles you on the edge of the counter. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You blink innocently. “You’re lucky you’re edible.”

He leans in close, nose brushing yours. “Careful, pup. Keep biting, and I might start biting back.”

You squeak, instantly hiding your face in his neck with a giggle. “Okay. That’s fair.”

Of course it doesn't stop there.

Later? You're all tangled up on the couch, warm and full of sleepy sighs. Drew's shirtless—because obviously, you insisted—and you're tucked right against him like you belong there (you do), your cheek squished against his chest while one of your legs drapes over his thick thigh.

Your hands keep wandering. Not in a dirty way. Just… puppy touchy way.

You had every right, okay?

'Queer' days were rough.

You squeeze his arm again. Like the tenth time.

“Still big,” you murmur with a sleepy pout.

Drew huffs a little laugh, hand stroking up and down your back, his voice low and soft. “You just said that, baby.”

“But you are,” you insist, hugging him tighter. “You’re, like… so much. You feel like a whole warm boulder. A pretty one. A—like—a human heater with abs.”

That makes him snort. “A boulder?”

“My boulder,” you mumble possessively, nuzzling into the crook of his neck now, letting out a tiny, satisfied whimper. “Mhm. Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine.”

“You really are like a puppy,” he grins, kissing your hair as his fingers scratch gently at your scalp. “Clingy. Bitey. Weirdly obsessed with my arms.”

“I’m not weird,” you pout.

“You literally licked my shoulder earlier.”

“…a little.”

He chuckles, tucking you even closer with one big arm, like he’d never dream of letting you go. “You're lucky you’re cute.”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” you mumble, voice going all wobbly and quiet and sweet now that the teasing faded into cuddles.

That shuts him up for a second.

Then—so soft you barely catch it—he murmurs:

“Yeah. I really, really am.”

You smile against his skin, and in a minute or two, your breathing evens out. You're still wrapped around him like a vine, your hand on his chest, right over his heart. And Drew? He doesn’t move an inch. Just holds you there.

His puppy.

His whole world.

[billclintonjumpscare]

This post is, in a word, bad. You don't seem to actually understand how internalised homophobia works, and your arguments are frankly nonsensical.

While Cassie was raised by Helena and trained by Diana - both strong women who supported her and encouraged her to be herself - they were far from the only influences on her life. Unlike Diana, or even Donna, Cassie had a normal childhood. She went to public school, in the USA, in the 1990s and 2000s.

She didn't grow up surrounded by strong women raising her to be a strong woman; she grew up in a society where queer people were mocked at best and murdered at worst. She would have heard "gay" being used exclusively as an insult. She absolutely would have been supported by her mother and by Diana; but there's not much they can do if she gets asked "what are you, some kind of lesbian?" at school. All the parental support in the world means jack shit against high school bullies.

She received backlash as Wonder Girl too, for not conforming, and as a result gradually changed her outfit until we reach the hyperfeminine costume she has in Teen Titans 2003.

Wonder Woman #153

There were rumours and speculation surrounding Wonder Woman and Superman; these rumours transferred to Wonder Girl and Superboy, and Cassie feels the pressure.

Wonder Woman #153, #226

Is it any wonder that a girl living in a deeply homophobic society, feeling the pressure to conform to gendered roles, might start to wear girly clothes and date a boy? All the love and support in the world can't save her from that kind of pressure!

Teen Titans #25

"She wore T-shirts two sizes too big and had bad hair. And she was't very pretty." That doesn't sound like a girl who's full of self worth and confidence to me. That sounds like a girl who has been pressured into conforming to society's expectations of what being a girl should be.

I am not saying you have to headcanon Cassie as a lesbian - bisexual Cassie, pansexual Cassie, ace Cassie, hell even straight Cassie - they're all fine! But to dismiss a lesbian reading of her character as not valid due to some bizarre claim that having supportive parents makes everything OK is idiotic.

As for your point about Cissie - why not both? Why can't they both be closeted lesbians? Is there only space for one lesbian on the Young Justice roster?

Finally, I want to zoom in on your description of a lesbian Cassie as "a broken girl who hates herself for who she loves". That is an incredibly cruel description. Staying in the closet does not make you broken, weak, or self-hating. Dating men before coming out as queer is an incredibly common experience for many lesbians, and filing them all away as "broken" is dismissive, hurtful, and lesbophobic. Fuck you, and fuck everyone who reblogged this post without criticism.

‎I've seen a persistent trend in the fandom of portraying Cassie Sandsmark as a queer girl struggling with internalized homophobia or emotional repression. And honestly, that just doesn't align with her backstory, environment, or personality.‎‎

Cassie was raised by Helena Sandsmark, a strong, independent, open-minded woman. She's not a repressive or conservative figure — quite the opposite. Helena has always supported her daughter, even when Cassie’s life drastically changed upon entering the mythological world of the Amazons.‎

On top of that, Cassie was trained by Diana of Themyscira, a canonically bisexual woman who embodies free love, respect for identity, and sisterhood.‎ She was also guided by Artemis Grace, another powerful, unapologetically bisexual figure.‎‎

Are we really supposed to believe that Cassie, raised around powerful, loving queer women, would grow up feeling shame or guilt about her identity if she were queer?‎‎

If Cassie were a lesbian, she would be confident, proud, and surrounded by support. There’s no narrative foundation for painting her as a broken girl who hates herself for who she loves. That trope doesn’t belong to her.‎‎

Now, a character who does fit that narrative is Cissie King-Jones.‎ Cissie was raised by Bonnie, a mother who projected her own frustrations onto her daughter, pressured her to be perfect, and micromanaged her public image.‎ That’s the kind of environment where repression, guilt, and fear of rejection could realistically take root.

If we’re going to talk about internalized homophobia, Cissie has the context, the trauma, and the canon support for it.‎‎ Cassie doesn’t.

‎She doesn’t need that kind of pain to validate her identity. Not every queer character has to suffer through self-hatred. ‎Sometimes, they just grow up in a healthy environment. And that’s valid too.‎‎

PS: If Cassie were queer, she'd be bisexual or pansexual (that's my headcanon and I’m standing by it).‎ She could even be polyamorous — and yes, that’s also crossed my mind, especially because the bond within the core four really lends itself to that kind of reading.‎

[koimethehorizon]

DELTARUNE: A Masochistic Reading of Noelle Holiday and Trends of Masochistic Invalidation

(MASSIVE SPOILERS for all of Deltarune!)

To preface beforehand… everything I’m about to discuss is purely from my own reading, observations, research, and knowledge from friends within alternative communities (S&M and kink) while having very little personal experience with those communities myself. If this makes everything I’m about to discuss feel fraudulent, you are valid for assuming so. Frankly, I’ve been musing over whether I should even be the person writing this analysis. But as a fan of the Deltarune community and especially this character, I felt as if this topic has been disappointingly under-discussed, and I wanted to put any of my pennies into this bucket in hopes of finding those voices. If anyone with real knowledge and lives within these communities happens to read this and finds any of my observations off-base, please inform me in this post’s replies or tumblr asks. I yearn for more analysis on this topic and this character from your voices instead.

Art: @slugg-it-out

Last week... uh, wait 2 weeks ago (shit), I asked this kinda out of nowhere:

“Is Noelle Holiday a masochist?”

My answer? Yes!

… but I want to rephrase the question slightly. Noelle is a minor, so linking her to masochism, even when specifically talking about S&M relationship dynamics and psychosexual analysis is pretty touchy. 

Instead, let me rephrase it this way:

“What observations can we gather from Noelle’s arc under a masochistic reading?”

I don’t think I have to elaborate that Noelle, at the very least, has masochistic tendencies. All of her wiki pages say it, fan communities make constant jokes about it, and thanks to the voters last week, I know a decent majority also agree.

thanks everybody!

So why the heck am I talking about this like some big deal if this is mostly agreed upon?

I’ve combed across tons of Noelle analysis from psychological profiles, her metatextual relevance to Deltarune, the shipping wars, etc. I’ve scoured quite a bit ever since Ch 2… yes, for that long.

And to speak frankly… I think a lot of fans aren’t willing to take Noelle’s masochism seriously.

Not just in the “oh isn’t it funny that she wants to be stepped on” kinda way (though those memes are still very funny), but sometimes in a “Noelle’s masochism is a character-flaw” sort of way. 

And I have some concerns that I’ll get into later about that…

(btw, I’m only linking comments that are genuinely in good faith in this post, I’d rather not draw attention to the malicious ones.)

Here’s my piece: I don’t think Noelle is down bad just for the fun of making thirst jokes, I strongly believe that Noelle was explicitly written to be a repressed adolescent exploring her masochistic tendencies. 

Originally, when I finished Chapter 2, I had many thoughts on the Weird Route that I couldn’t quite put into a sensitive reading because I had no concept of masochism as both a real kink and especially not for artistic analysis.

But since those 4 years, I’ve gotten a bit more familiar with queer communities I’ve only started to see more and more things I hadn’t before.

Let’s check out two major introspective moments from Chapter 2 again:

Ferris Wheel dialogue:

Noelle and Kris below the City:

The reasons for where masochism comes from are varied, and I want to be very careful with making any oversimplifications… but man…

Noelle’s background and the specific way she words her introspective thoughts sound remarkably familiar. Let’s go over Noelle’s traits one by one and connect them to common sentiments shared about the appeal of S&M dynamics (not sexual activity but the more relationships between them) and the psychology of its participants:

"At first, I cried, but now… it’s like… watching them… makes me feel… comforted?" "It’s scary, but I can just turn it off, right? Now it’s mostly… people, that are scary. Haha."

Noelle seeks out extreme stimuli like being scared from horror movies, pranks, and deep diving disturbing video game secrets. Noelle expresses that the reason she loves these situations is because she knows that they aren’t real and that by the end of them, she’ll be ok.

S&M and kink participants create “scenes” in which people act out extreme, specific scenarios not simply to blindly experience pain or intensity, but to willingly engage in a fictitious version of their desires that in real cases would be dangerous to be in.

"I know we never found anything interesting back there… I mostly remember… crying because I was scared." "But for some reason I feel… nostalgic thinking about it... I guess I didn’t mind being scared if it meant… someone would comfort me."

Noelle also associates fear with a source of nostalgic comfort. This stems from long-gone days where she would frequently be scared, then comforted by someone she loves at the end of these experiences.

There are many cases of masochists seeking out scenes that are reminiscent of the punishment they had received in the past. Some even being re-enactments of deeply traumatic experiences, only this time, THEY CHOOSE to relive it with someone compassionate and will stop when they say so. (this is where safe words come from)

"(Sigh. Kris is the only one who knows how weird I am. It's not fair y'know?! Everyone knows how weird YOU are!)

Noelle lives with a lot of self-loathing and powerlessness in an emotionally neglectful household where she needs to hide her feelings and interests from her mother constantly.

Many masochists grew up in religious or puritanical households that forced them to bottle up their feelings. Some of these feelings transform into a sadism that is turned inward as a way to punish themselves for failing the expectations their environment placed on them.

"You’re the… good kind of scary. You aren’t afraid to… break the rules, y’know?" "… I wish I could do crazy stuff like you."

Noelle spends an exhaustive amount of time helping other people, despite the emotional baggage she already holds. In moments of introspection, Noelle tends to beat herself up internally about being incapable of rebelling and seeking adventure on her own.

While researching this topic, I came across a lot of beautifully written comments from people who expressed that masochism was a way to achieve freedom from themselves. By having someone else occupy their thoughts, they were free from their own intrusive thoughts, from controlling their own bodily sensations, and to have to stop worrying about themselves for a fleeting moment. 

While there are situations where Noelle will often confuse her boundaries and let people walk over her, she’s still at her happiest and most fulfilled when assisting people who genuinely appreciate her.

One of the biggest emotional appeals of masochists creating scenes for others, is a pride in serving as a conduit for other people to explore reactions that they weren’t allowed to share with anyone else beforehand.

And I haven’t even mentioned Susie yet!

Noelle fantasizes “scenes” with Susie, even to a degree that when she witnesses Susie’s bullying as an outsider, even to her childhood friend, she wishes she could be the one taking the humiliation instead.

Noelle is into people like Susie for a very specific quality. A person she considers “the good kind of scary”. Someone who is fiercely independent, who uses intimidation as an act, but comes out as emotional and kind-hearted when simply talked to.

And hell, for the Kriselle or the Krusielle crowd, Noelle seems to find these same qualities in Kris as well.

Art: @Kuroto_Draw

Their entire childhood relationship was based on similar foundations.

Kris used to scare Noelle through play-tearing out their heart, jumpscaring her from under her sheets, and covering themselves in blood like a zombie. A majority of these pranks were done innocently, and if any were to go too far, Kris would apologize or protect her from real danger.

Even if Noelle doesn’t have romantic feelings for Kris, they undeniably played a big role in forming experiences that Noelle now associates with companionship and desire.

Real practices of S&M or sadomasochism aren’t about inflicting/experiencing pain just for the sake of it. The point is to create a consensual relationship with the awareness that they ultimately have control over whatever is done to them.

All parties in an S&M dynamic MUST trust each other to only go as far as they need to.

It’s consent from all parties that makes the relationship legitimate.

This is the most important fact to keep in mind moving forward. Remember this.

If you’ve read up to this point, I imagine (hopefully) this all sounds plenty reasonable… except…

At the cost of undermining everything I typed up beforehand… again, it’s tricky to just label Noelle as a masochist and call it a day because she’s a teenager. 

Teenagers are famously incapable of understanding themselves, second-guessing their identities and orientations constantly. It’s still a developmental phase. Noelle is especially more emotionally stunted because her home life thrives on her masking through a jolly smile.

She’s barely had the chance to figure out or commit to her interests, so there’s no way to tell if she’ll still like these things or even still like Susie if they ever get into a serious relationship.

So… I just owned myself, right? Essay over?

Well… I have more evidence, but unfortunately, we’re going to have to get into the weird route. Where, unfortunately, these traits are far more obvious.

While this next part might be a tough read, I implore you to sit through as I think some of the MOST important messages of this reading are attained in this route.

(Content Warning: Topics of real-life abuse and toxic power dynamics.)

To me, the most disturbing aspect of the Weird Route isn’t the mass murder, it being the path to an alternative, darker ending, or even Noelle becoming a second player vessel or whatever.

Instead, it's the raw portrayal of an abusive romantic relationship.

When combined with the reading I’ve been using for Noelle so far…

In an extremely twisted way, the Weird Route acts as a sadomasochistic awakening for Noelle. And by selecting very specific options, the Player conditions her existing tendencies to make her unable to distinguish between consent and abuse.

Let’s look over the details:

While Noelle ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT ENJOY THE PLAYER’S ABUSE OF HER, she seems to increasingly become more and more willing to inflict harm on Darkners with the justification that doing so will make her more independent. All with a frozen smile on her face that only breaks when encountering Berdly.

While sadism and masochism are different in definition, a lot of masochism is defined to be sadism inflicted onto oneself. One reason for masochism I cited earlier is that some people desire pain and punishment because they feel like they deserve it. In this case, I feel as if Noelle is redirecting the sadism inflicted onto herself onto the Cyber City mobs once the Player has convinced her that this is all just a game.

Throughout Ch 2’s Weird Route, Noelle is subject to so much stress that she enters a trance-like state where she surrenders her mind, her memories, and even her physical sensations to our commands. In spite of everything, she interprets her predicament as freeing.

“To some, masochism was a way to achieve freedom from themselves. By having someone else control them, they were free from intrusive thoughts, from controlling their own bodily sensations, and to have to stop worrying about themselves for a fleeting moment.”

While freezing enemies on the way, you need to take Noelle to Spamton’s door, which she excitedly calls creepy… but also nostalgic. It’s very likely she is remembering the times she, Kris, Asriel, and Dess used to explore scary places together.

Again, some masochists seek out scenes that depict traumatic memories as a way of re-living them with a higher degree of control over those events. Noelle says that on each of these adventures, she would usually just cry and run away, but on the Weird Route, SHE is the one literally breaking the rules of the world and deciding the course of events.

Post Snowgrave, Kris returns to her to apologize. Then promises that none of it will happen again and to stay away. Instead, Noelle obsesses over Kris all day, even seeing her crush on Susie, as secondary. When they finally get to talk again, they both start at the end of a long couch, but as the conversation progresses, Noelle tenderly scoots all the way over to lean on Kris… despite them being the physical entity that she had just experienced a day of pain, trauma, and abuse from. 

…

Ok… let me cut off from the disturbing shit for just a second…

…And tangent onto something else I find very kinda disturbing.

Let’s talk about the weird ways anti-Suselle discussion incidentally or even purposely delegitimizes Noelle’s crush BECAUSE of her masochistic fantasies.

Art: @the_weaver

I’m not waging a shipping war here! It’s fine if Suselle isn’t your cup of tea, and strictly writing-related reasons are all valid. But I gotta go over some of the weirder sentiments I’ve run into during the agonizing post-Ch 2 era.

“How can Noelle still be into Susie knowing all the red flags? She even saw Kris get bullied badly and did nothing!” “Noelle barely knows Susie, what if she got into serious trouble by ending up with a rotten person?” “Noelle is unhealthily obsessed with Susie, it’s almost dehumanizing how so much of her attraction is based off of humiliation fantasies.” “Does Noelle even like Susie or just the idea of her?”

Here’s the thing… I actually don’t disagree with these comments in a broad sense.

It’s true that Noelle is already a very defenseless, self-sabotaging person who is seeking out a dangerous girl. A bully whom most of her classmates are terrified of being approached by.

It’s also true that Noelle knows so little about the real Susie that a lot of her expectations are definitely idealized. 

Susie’s bully persona was always a facade to keep other people away. And now that she’s become comfortable, no longer needing to use it… it’s reasonable to wonder if Noelle might have the wrong idea about Susie.

However, I feel like some of these sentiments, even if I’m certain 90% of are just out of goodwill and protectiveness for Noelle’s sake. The Deltarune community is dominated with queer support and I don’t mean to imply the community or these comments are bigoted.

However, I think a lack of sensitivity in addressing masochistic personality traits comes dangerously close to invalidating Noelle’s autonomy in a similar way to how femmes who participate in kink and identify with submission are often policed online.

Because of the misguided notions that masochists just LOVE pain and abuse for the sake of it, people are immediately discomforted whenever they hear of people engaging in S&M dynamics. Leading to shit like this:

“This is why bullies and abusers feel comfortable in their spaces.” “Victims are enabling these situations to occur more” “These helpless girls are going to end trapped in an abusive relationship or even dead” “Bad actors love that you let them take advantage of you” “Masochism is a mental illness, you need serious therapy”

Trust me, I relate heavily to being worried for other people and not wanting anyone to get seriously hurt… but these comments exist as a microcosm of people who are unwilling to see kinks and S&M as a valid experience.

The more comfortable people get invalidating masochism as an illness, the easier it is to distance yourself from them through jokes and shame.

And the real sad thing is: It’s easy to ignore victim blaming done by incoherent misogynists… but it’s polarizing to address victim blaming performed by overprotective online policing.

Oftentimes, hate speech and concern can seem indistinguishable.

…I’ve been struggling to write this part of the analysis for quite a while because one of the most upsetting realizations I made was that the Weird Route could be interpreted as fuel for victim blaming directed towards masochists and submissive femmes. 

After all, why should people like Noelle be trusted with her freedom when we have palpable proof that she will fail to assert herself when real danger shows up?

The fine line I’ve been trying to balance is that Noelle IS mentally unwell. Noelle’s masochistic tendencies ARE rooted from trauma.

And in a way, Queen and Rudy DO have a point that Noelle is deeply vulnerable to outside forces and needs watchful protection.

But I’ll repeat again, S&M is NOT a willing acceptance of violence and abuse. Legitimate S&M dynamics are found on consent!

The Weird Route is a cautionary tale on relationships that form when consent isn’t part of the equation.

Noelle becomes trapped into this abusive relationship NOT because of her masochistic tendencies, but because she has NEVER been able to explore a romantic relationship or her tendencies and hasn’t properly established her boundaries.

The moment Kris (the Player) returns to their commanding voice and physically endangers her, her longing for Kris is GONE.

I’m certain that Toby knew and predicted potential bad faith readings that could’ve been applied to Noelle’s behavior on this route. Which is why Noelle’s background is so absurdly detailed and specific.

Let’s go over the REAL necessary context that led to this:

Noelle lives in an unchanging, puritanical household trapped eternally in Christmas. Enforced by a very collectivist, matriarchal family dynamic that, as the next woman of the family, she must live up to. 

It’s almost to a comical degree with Carol preserving artifacts of the traumatic Dremurr/Holiday split scattered all over the house to remind her every day of what they’ve lost.

Carol is not just a strict mother but also the Mayor of Hometown.

She’s extremely neglectful of Noelle and is told to be “hard on her” whenever she’s around.

Despite being a valedictorian, a pillar of her community, giving gifts to her, and staying put, Carol never seems to show any open appreciation for her. 

Noelle just seems scared of her. She won’t argue back or complain even when she is locked out of her house for hours. And throughout all her life, she’s had to hide her interests and relationships from her.

Rudy is at most a mediator of these domestic issues, but doesn’t fix them.

He even neglects serious matters by hiding behind smiles and jokes. And a lot of her inability to admit her emotions could be inspired by her father.

Noelle is also living with some PTSD or even guilt over her sister’s disappearance. Kris, Dess, and Asriel have vanished from her lives one way or another, and with Rudy bedridden, she’s running out of people to love.

Is it any surprise that Noelle, once The Player promises her some liberation, wearing the skin of a person she yearns to connect with again, and who also happens to know the ins and outs of Noelle’s psychology, easily folds to them?

The Weird Route is the consequence of restrictive parenting, emotional neglect, and most of all, invalidation. 

This is why talking about this is so important. And it’s why I’ve spent this ungodly amount of time researching this just to talk about a pixelated deer girl.

I didn't write this. But it is facts.

Even if I’m just completely bananas on Noelle’s tendencies being a serious plot point and even if it’s kind of ridiculous to diagnose fictional characters that we literally cannot question or talk properly to…

Fandoms read personality traits onto characters based both on their writing AND vibes. I mean look at the trans Noelle debate that popped up a few years back.

Brainrot Artistic analysis isn’t about scientifically dissecting the exact psychoanalysis bucket we can put a fictional character into, but the RELATABILITY of the struggles of fictional characters, where we can base entire readings off of.

If we can find valuable connections and lessons in fictional characters, even if we just hallucinated those intentions, those conversations can help us connect to ourselves and other people.

If even someone who only has a broad understanding of masochism can somehow see Noelle as a masochist, even if Toby never intended this (even though I think he did), it is still a valid reading.

And if I’m allowed to be slightly more inflammatory, popular characters like Noelle from a massively popular game, consequentially often have their less relatable qualities erased from discussion and headcanons. I’ve seen it time and time again with degrees of insensitivity.

It’s been done with Noelle, and you’ve definitely seen it with Kris.

46 citations! You didn't want to leave them a chance, huh?!! Did you feel anger? Hate? They were bleeding, begging for you to get out of their body. But you misgendered them! Again and again!

People should be allowed to explore their sexuality and seek relationships that they can grow from. That’s how a person finds their threshold for consent in the first place.

And just because Noelle has a weird, fetishistic love for someone, doesn’t mean it’s not real or worth delving into or questioning herself.

But here’s what I hope I’m trying to get across here is that, and hopefully for the FINAL time:

IT’S ALL ABOUT CONSENT!!! Consent is the difference between valid romantic experiences vs straight-up abuse.

That’s how marginalized people and people who have felt invalid their entire life FIND their communities. Through LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS of trial and error!

Maybe the relationship will shatter. Maybe these desires will be preyed on by an abuser. And for Noelle’s case, maybe by seeking this danger, she’ll experience another traumatic experience and shatter her already broken conscience further.

But here’s the thing. 

How often does Noelle ever show confidence about what she feels? How often does she act on anything for her own sake? 

If Noelle’s desires can be exploited, doesn’t the blame fall on the aggressor and not the person who had the right to seek them out?

And lo and behold, Susie’s actually pretty chill after all! 

And by Chapter 4, I think you’d be delusional to still assume Susie doesn’t reciprocate some feelings back.

She gets so distracted by finding out if Suselle is canon that Kris can go down a large hallway, undergo an entire art therapy session, and eat that sweet sweet moss without her noticing.

Knowing how little Noelle ever allows herself to express her own interests, I think it’s actually healthier to just let her find out herself and see what truly makes her happy.

And let’s be perfectly honest - teenage relationships almost never hold up anyways. Suselle, Kriselle, …….Berdelle? It doesn't matter.

Regardless of who she ends up with at the end of Deltarune, it’s not guaranteed to be positive or even last… but the learning experience absolutely will. 

AKA: Don’t be a Carol.

PS. Holy [$?%!] this took way too goddamn long.

Everything I’ve said here is honestly very surface-level and more a result of my distant fascination for all sorts of people across marginalized spaces. 

I don’t know these people well enough to truly connect to them, but the best I’d like to offer is to explain why they are so interesting. At the very least, this character gave me a great excuse to delve into this topic further.

But for now, I need to give irl serious topics like this a break, I’ll be back to more fun posts until then.

[orange-sora]

So, I recently made this post:

And @astrinde left this comment on it which made me realise that I did a very poor job of expressing myself. Sorry about that. (This is exactly why I shouldn't post while half asleep.)

Thank you for leaving this comment <3 (It made me think about exactly what I wanted to convey through that post.)

I can understand why people would find the word "mistake" to be the hurtful aspect of Xichen's speech and I wasn't thorough (lol) in my previous post so I am doing it now. I need to clarify some things so I am putting them here.

I am not particularly focused on the semantics here or on Xichen being "anti-wangxian". It doesn't matter to me how supportive canon characters are of a ship. I am also not hating on Xichen for the way he reacted. He was valid for being angry. In his pov, his lil bro suffered a lot and WWX is playing with him. He was missing A LOT of context.

Whether he was calling WWX "Wangji's transgression or mistake", the truth is LWJ acted the way he did on his own. While WWX received societal condemnation for his fuck ups, LWJ himself didn't think WWX deserved it or that the way he acted or intended to act was "wrong". LWJ wanted to protect WWX as he believed WWX to be righteous. In fact, I think he struggled a lot to come to terms with the disparity between WWX’s righteousness and his own sect's beliefs and rules of righteousness. But in the end, the decision to support WWX was HIS OWN.

Putting LWJ on a pedestal that aligns with society's and sect’s values is what caused him misery.

He was punished for discerning something to be right that everyone else has already agreed is wrong. By calling WWX "Wangji's only transgression or mistake", Xichen is being disrespectful to both WWX and LWJ because he's disregarding Wangji's free will and right to judge what's right/wrong for himself and putting the responsibility of Wangji's suffering on WWX’s shoulders (while being ignorant of why WWX did the things he did).

However, none of that was WWX's responsibility. If you support someone and people cancel you for it, is that someone to blame when you made the free choice of supporting them?

WWX actively tried to keep himself isolated to protect others from his decisions and his approach towards justice. That was a significant aspect of his life as the yilling laozu. Because he KNEW he was controversial. The thing that I was referring to in that post is from WWX’s perspective, it's a totally understandable yet horrible accusation to receive. Because WWX worked hard in canon to avoid that. Because WWX knew that anyone who supports him WILL suffer. Because WWX knew loving him is a punishment that no one deserves especially LWJ.

He just wasn't aware that LWJ would and had supported him because he has also placed LWJ on the same pedestal as everyone. He never imagined LWJ to make a choice that goes against the rules that he has followed throughout his life. That was probably the cause of all miscommunication between them.

Even if this isn't Xichen's personal judgement, he's borrowing the judgement of the society to blame WWX for something that in essence wasn't his fault. He is doing what everyone else is doing by acting on a mob mentality. Because WWX is a very convenient punching bag as he DID make mistakes publicly and he's aware of them.

In fact, anyone with any sense in canon is aware that WWX is an easy target. Meng Yao, Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, Nie Huaisang, etc. Everyone knew WWX would be villainised even for the wrongs he never committed. That was a pretty significant theme in Mo Dao: you can't save people from other’s judgements. Once you've been decided as the villain, that's all everyone would see.

Another significant theme in MDZS was how you can't save people from their own choices and you have to live with seeing your loved ones suffer due to those choices. So Xichen suffered because he couldn't save Wangji. Jiang Cheng suffered because he couldn't save Wei Wuxian. Wei Wuxian suffered because he couldn't save Wen Ning and Wen Qing (or anyone really), Lan Zhan suffered because he couldn't save Wei Ying and on and on…

But everyone needs someone to blame for all the suffering. And that was Wei Wuxian, in most cases.

The main thing is both Xichen and Wei Ying had not wanted Wangji to suffer and both had to live with the fact that he did. But it was purely Wangji's choice to accept that pain.

Lan Xichen is wrong for saying that WWX was Wangji's transgression/mistake because in saying so he's supporting the idea that LWJ should've quietly followed the crowd and saved himself from the public backlash. It comes from a place of care for his brother, but it's still wrong.

Lan Elders made the choice of punishing him. Lan Wangji accepted that punishment because he went against the rules of the sect, not because he was wrong for supporting/ loving Wei Ying.

Wangji was aware of the repercussions of supporting WWX and still chose to do it because it aligned with his personal sense of morality. And also because he loved Wei Ying. And he loved Wei Ying because despite his mistakes, Wei Ying was morally right. And hence, worth the pain to Lan Zhan.

[thydungeongal]

So in that one post I mentioned that the idea of defining roleplaying as a set of specific behavioral and gameplay goals (which generally amount to a strong character stance and a focus on narration over procedure) can actually lead to bad game design. By this I don't mean "any game that tries to build mechanics into it that encourage that type of roleplaying will be bad;" instead that this type of idea of roleplaying has developed almost independent of the actual gameplay and rules structure of roleplaying games and is thus a bad fit for most roleplaying games. And as such, simply plugging "rules that encourage roleplaying" without consideration as to what the game's built-in incentives are into a very traditional RPG structure can lead to unfocused design.

Most RPG designers end up, for better and for worse, replicating extremely traditional roleplaying game structures. This is something of a case of fish not being able to recognize they're in water: the most common type of RPG on the market is a challenge-based adventure game. Games where the main language is challenge and with incentive structures built in such a way that the gameplay pretty much should look like "a party of adventurers going into places to solve problems" are so common that people don't really stop to even think about it. (This relates to one of my gripes with many PbtA games: I have often praised both Apocalypse World and Monsterhearts for not being structured like traditional adventure type games, only to then have to lament that most games built on the PbtA framework end up being traditional adventure type games that end up using parts of the technology created by AW)

People end up, essentially, making adventure games because that's most of what they know, and then plugging in "rules to encourage roleplay" onto them. But like, without looking at the gameplay structures and incentives built into a game you might actually end up creating sources of tension. These may not always be bad: sometimes a tension between "what is strictly optimal" and "what is fun" can be fruitful.

As said, most games end up copying the gameplay structure of very traditional RPGs where challenge is the main form of gameplay. These types of games also tend to accept the loss of characters as a valid consequence of play. This is already somewhat unacceptable to many people operating from an understanding of roleplaying as primarily a dramatic exercise. Lack of character continuity can be disruptive to long-form narratives and characters with deep internal narratives. Also, the singular focus on external rewards can also be detrimental to dramatic story-driven play.

But the issue isn't that these games are bad for roleplaying: they're bad for a specific type of roleplaying, but not all roleplaying games share the same creative agenda. This becomes an issue when game designers take what is, at its heart, a game whose primary language is challenge and then try to modify that gameplay structure to "support roleplaying."

D&D is, at its heart, a challenge game, even in our current year of 2025. But largely because the D&D-playing community has rejected a game focused primarily on challenge as being dissatisfactory the result is, at the end of the day, a weird chimera of challenge game with rules that are supposed to weigh the game towards "roleplaying."

Like, the issue isn't that there's anything inherently wrong with D&D's structure. It's just that D&D has adapted to a changing, capricious definition of "roleplaying," and in doing so it has introduced ideas into its system that contradict its challenge game DNA.

None of that is to say that D&D used to be good and then it was failed by its designers. Even as a fan of older editions of D&D I can recognize that even my favorite editions of D&D kind of suck in subtle ways. Part of the challenge of D&D as a challenge game is trying to navigate the challenge of the game itself being kind of bad. You know those types of video games which are kind of buggy but fun so part of the challenge is knowing to play around the unfun and janky parts? That's how playing B/X feels like to me sometimes.

But what I do think is that a D&D that had embraced it being a game that is primarily about would probably be cool as hell. But you know I can only be so salty about modern D&D following a direction where, while still at heart a game about overcoming challenges, D&D has kind of also developed these ideas of being "more than" a challenge game, when there are thousands upon thousands of beautiful trans women (and some other people as well) writing hacks of B/X that make that game even more playable.

Anyway I don't remember what the original point was. Oh, right! You can't just take a challenge game formula and try to plug "mechanics that improve roleplaying" on top of them. If you want to make a game that doesn't want characters to express themselves primarily through overcoming adversity you are better off just starting with a clean slate. What the fuck is this post even about

[macabre-muses]

i completly understand where you're coming from,and i also studied the play pretty extensively in my english literature classes,so i understand why you think that way.but something my literature teacher always says is that tragedies are universal,while comedies tend to be products of their time,which are harder for us to understand.even just looking at jokes from 20/30 years ago we see a distinct shift in what we as a society find funny and what we define as comedies,and for romeo and juliet to become the hallmark of tragic lovers there must have been something that resonated with us,like we resonate with idk euripides' tragedies thousands of years later,of course you can sum them up with something stupid to make them sound ridiculous,and oftentimes it's hard to rationalize them,but i prefer not to go with the "all the characters are dumb" interpretation,even if it might seem the most obvious.my point with this (i hope it came thorugh!!!i often lose sight of what i write if i just put my every tought in the text sorry) is that i completly agree with the presence of satirical elements,but also that interpretation can still work while assuming romeo and juliet were truly in love,instead of just blaming everything on hormones/genaral teenage dumbness,it can be both a social critic and a tragic love story,if we are able to suspend our disbelief at the concept of "love at first sight while they're teenagers",depending on how you see it,and both interpretations have validity and base in the text in my opinion,and i feel like that's what makes it such a great work!!! (even tough it's not my fovorite of his by far.)

but i would still consider it a tragedy,i mean it has been categorized as one by scholars for centuries everywhere by people who knew a lot more about it than me (i foucused on shakespeare only for a little while,as my studies are more greek classics based),but i also still think that love can be found in comedy and those two things don't necessarily invalidate eachother.you can still make a mockery of rich people by having the kids really fall in love,in my opinion.

(also i find the opening prologue thing really witty,just not a direct reference to romeo and juliet maybe,as many theatrical works since ancient greece have had one,so maybe it was more of a mockery of that as a whole?)

(btw if you're wondering how i have 18 in my and have already studied greek classics for some time it's because i live in a country where after middle school you pick a specific type of high school between many,and the one i picked focuses on the learning of latin and ancient greek,as in those subjects have more hours than our own language,and also of course of the languages' literature,and studied shakespeare all throught my third year in englisj).

someone should do a diagram about the intersection of people who think that anakin and padmé didn't really love each other and the ones who say romeo and juliet wasn't a love story

[creativity-deficient]

South Park fans! How many things do you have in common with your favorite character(s)? I’m curious!!

[rederiss]

So, I technically haven’t written anything new since I posted my fic on Sunday (Last week, I had behemoth sized final papers, so I got a little burned out on writing. Decided to take a break, but Im getting back to it today!) I DID write a flashback scene a week ago that I was originally going to put in part 1 but decided to put it in part 2 instead.

For those who haven’t read TGR, there are technically spoilers in this so beware!!

[horsegirlhob]

I'm not an Angel hater by any means however I do think Spike should get to be as big of a dick to him as he wants to be and people shouldn't get to say shit about it.

[sailforvalinor]

Let me preface this by saying that I’m saying this with the utmost fondness, but my parents are so funny because they didn’t say a word when I got my first tattoo, I was a full-grown adult and they were totally chill with it, but the second I start talking about ideas for a second one they start losing their minds 😂

[nenoname]

it's a bit sad to me when folks cram relativity falls!dipper into an exact ford role of being a genius scientist who becomes a sci fi hero character

[unproduciblesmackdown]

tayston au where they're coworkers Somewhere Else that's not like the ideal dream job in theory for either of them, nor in practice, where there's still typical nonsense & the [genderdivergent / neurononconforming handshake] is no less relevant, just like In Real Life. elements simplified &/or amplified by taylor not having any especial rank or power, along the lines of how things presumably would've gone as [premise of having been Just Some Intern until getting mentorship & promotions that made it more relevant to stay a while]. they and winston maybe distantly know Of each other just via working in whatever same physical space, & this is how they both know most other coworkers; they mostly interact with who they interact with for official work purposes, they both keep busy enough, they're both othered by what workplace socializing is going on, with plenty of [shared negative opinion] embraced by people & thus both of them as the targets of that being Not embraced. gd & nnc handshake as stated

so, thinking of them both at some General Coworkers Mostly Informal Event at a bar or something of the sort, like, an End Of The Year thing, end of the [ways specific workplaces divide up time for whatever business events. quarters. some other regular event of Assessment] or any other companywide deal that could spur some peak Across The Board "we're going out, theoretically everyone's invited" and of course both winston and taylor happen to actually go. maybe there are preexisting (also mostly informal) traditions here, maybe there's people just making shit up on the spot (perhaps pretending they're preexisting traditions. winston & taylor not having worked there a full year or anything. or maybe one or both of them has, but hasn't shown up for this perhaps annual deal before. etc) but some "playing with [someone othered] for entertainment" organically crops up around winston where the people involved also spontaneously bring taylor into it as accessory, someone they wouldn't involve as getting to be "in on it." lot of flexibility here but what i've landed on after rotating & jostling ideas is roughly like: people very loosely like expressing a celebratory nature to the event via (again perhaps an actual informal preexisting tradition, perhaps being invented just now while perhaps pretending otherwise, or not) like Awards / Honors / Recognitions being doled out to some specific employees. maybe starts out somewhat rooted in more formal things, hooray for someone's recentish birthday, hooray for someone's preexisting formal recognition for whatever work achievement, then branches off into like haha hooray for [person] for [inside joke about some event ya just had to be there for! / other work wins of increasing informality/jokiness] where that jocularity can easily transition into Using this autistic coworker who's never in the In Group as a joke, of course, while maintaining ambiguity to opacity / Deniability about how the figurative arm slung around His shoulder is not actual inclusion like it is for other people

e.g. set winston up like here's some Ironic Recognition that is ostensibly framed as a compliment directly or that the ribbing / insulting Is in fact totally amicable Inclusion just like it is when we do it to these other guys haha....taylor happens to be proximate enough to be spontaneously dragged into it with people exercising the same attitude of like, well they're an object to be toyed with momentarily for our entertainment just like winston is haha. like oh don't you agree with this compliment towards winston Or this insult, it'd amuse us either way. and an idea being this being dialed up enough for like little a [venturing into harassment] all around of like, perhaps: congratulations winston for us all agreeing you Win at being our office's most eligible bachelor haha XD you're soooo single X'D cue whatever transition into building on The Joke like and how amazing when you're, stifled laughter, you're the hottest person here also three cheers for that too....like a) winston like thee nerd amongst nerds, no matter where he works or what group he's in the [an autistic person...] is Sensed, just like in real life, b) being in the impossible position where ofc he's doomed from the start in being targeted by people who can & are ganging up on him here, him playing along while realizing it may all be at his expense = he loses, him pushing back = he loses, him at least at first accepting like oh people are being spontaneous & funny & friendly to me (such as with amicable ribbing truly equivalent to what other popular enough coworkers are getting) & not realizing it's actually different & disingenous & entirely At His Expense = he loses. but whatever his response at first like, it's Escalated by someone drawing taylor into it b/c they're sitting at the next table or walking by at that instant or coming up to the bar or something & it's like oh Hey, we were just giving winston his due as the sexiest motherfucker here, Do you agree & Wouldn't you make out with him. & this obvious escalation / unusual extension of the [figurative arm around winston's shoulder] that isn't happening with any of the other like more at all actually better-intentioned friendly [just messing with you] being like, making winston More uncomfortable (b/c even if he'd accepted the premise / given the benefit of the doubt to the premise / optimistically tried to believe the premise that it was genuinely well-intentioned up to this point, the "this is just pushed onto him" element inherent to it would not be fun for him) & thus yknow Definitely realizing that no matter the intentions like, this is just gonna be a bad time for him & isn't gonna result in being embraced / included in any way he wants here

also the incongruity in how winston sees taylor here, & how taylor sees winston, vs how whatever group of friends being assholes to both of them sees either of them. the Key Element that makes this "oh, autistic & trans handshake moment, tayston moment" at the core. taylor is experiencing someone just on a whim Also trying to like pick them up for a second & mess with them as a desk toy for one's own amusement, as it were, as the [taylor is out here indeed gender nonconforming even if this workplace isn't As ramped up Cis Agenda as canon's, they're also still Unusual enough in demeanor/comport/means of expression/communication & so forth as to get that "honorary" ableism (still just the same ableism) like how in canon ppl are basically calling both of the r word in different ways, degrees, at different points] like Joke's On Them too, we're Ironic in asking their input, they & winston can still only lose no matter how they respond, Their opinion on [Ideals of gender & sexuality? thus Desirability?] can only Deviate from correctness just as winston can only Deviate from correctness in this [in group]'s "opinion" (they have the Facts!) like hilarious if taylor, weirdo who we could also make fun of by how Undesirable they are, also rejects winston, or doesn't, which would also just be hilarious

meanwhile winston is like oh no this hot coworker being dragged into it :[ don't put them on the spot to either be like "ew god" about me Or else also only be playing along in this specific moment and context such that i'm flying too close to the sun with however seemingly positively they might interact with me, even a smile & a Yeah Nice, don't want them to go "lmfao. imagine. as if XD", don't want them to think he himself is In On giving them shit here....then taylor's obvious Lack Of Being Amused Too if not displeasure at some shitheads being like would you Not want all of that (winston) would you totally kiss him for $50, don't answer that $500, all the money in the world & you're the last people in the world then it'd be tempting right XD just etc suffering as the punchline of bullshit improv out here. to winston's compounding embarrassment at both a) realizing yeah this isn't Just amicable razzing, he's only "included" to the extent he's these people's entertainment, perhaps also picking up on the outright like [just being given shit] / contempt to it, & b) again like not wanting to now be involved in annoying the epic & definitely themself sexy mf coworker who is of course just set up to reject him in this moment & also now going forward....while taylor is also in turn is Seeing Winston in a different context than these others are & like recognizing his [winston's discomfited & withdrawing expressiveness] & just indeed that context of likewise suffering bullshit here

some kind of transition here, like, taylor makes some dry in turn ambiguous enough response about like, well yes i think out of everyone present i'd be most likely to make out with this particular person. b/c these shitheads don't confer especial worthiness to any of taylor's input either it's like ohhh shitttt reallyyyy do itttt XD and you know, tall order to then actually do it in this pretty hostile situation & knowing as much, but this is just a specificass What If vs [only outcome possible, in every au in every timeline] and like the added situation of like, taylor already has been aware of bullshit & nonsense & hostility & their not winning the popularity contest which matters, winston has been too, that neither of them are so committed to this particular job that they can't also both engage in some spontaneity here which could, in fact, include "eh yeah maybe i'll just quit after this. maybe this is me quitting"

taylor also of course not actually kissing winston here if he wasn't also into it. but this is a) mutual recognition of a kindred spirit, if even simply in [both being put into this damn situation / held in the same context by these other mfs] & b) winston is, in fact, flustered about immediate [!! they're hot!!] so yknow.

point is we get to the point of winston like, having this aside directly with taylor of like, embarrassed, flustered, being like "augh sorry :( you don't have to. this is just a joke to them" and taylor can be like "yeah i know and i know i'm also just a joke to them, but." and perhaps a little more of a transition into it like, the mutual question of "do You think i'm a joke" where it is of the essence that a) they both already realize that this person does, in fact, not, and b) this is just further confirmation and rather asking like, is this serious enough to you, do you understand i'm being serious enough. again not seriousness in Gravitas to ""play along"" and make out as effective strangers having a moment at a work function amidst hostile parties, but in sufficient earnestness in doing so. like no i'm not actually trying to agree / go along with any terms as laid out by these other people but yeah i'd have This moment of actual acceptance and recognition with you and it Can manifest as making out a bit, sure, and as a way to at all turn things around on this other party, if They play along, if they find they're actually about it at all, if they're just annoyed & drop the act, they lose a bit, even as again like, of course even if they choose some other route, do the "correct" thing and pwn winston, do what'd "win" and try to pwn him And everyone else here, they can't simply get that ultimate permanent victory (this is not billions canon, where they still couldn't do that anyways)

anyways they have their little exchange of recognition, reassurance like but i'm not messing with you, you're not messing with me, even as we're about to mess around(tm) a minute. they have an exchange of messing around and making out a minute. the "well while we're here, suffering bullshit, may as well get this much out of it / sure fuck it" factor can involve now also being [handshake] in like eh yeah think i might have to just quit after that, think that might've just been me quitting, b/c they can keep being Mostly Left Alone at work but this wouldn't really have made things any better, this wasn't either of their dream jobs in the forever career, this was all an Event marking some annual milestone like well i'm not dying to attend the next one either and i may as well peace out now anyways. and everyone might start just being assholes about it immediately and it's like yeah do you wanna get out of here, in the straightforward way, in the "i'd mess around with you further now sure, fuck it, by which i mean me/you, literally" way. Do So even if people are more like okay lol whatever yeah we'll be about as unfriendly as we were before, just a bit more now. be like lol we've actually never really talked, we can go to some other place and get food, hang out, chat too, exchange numbers and plan to at least be friends or allies in "now Ex coworkers lol" like it's sure a way to meet, it was sure relevant that we were just both immediately aware of there being this Understanding between us

bonus: add ben to this newfound companionship b/c he reaches out like "oh sorry you're quitting, yeah people sure can be assholes since i don't have to refrain from saying so to you as [people who also still work here]" or through some other means. or anyone else. billions au, the characters we like / could perhaps save just knowing each other any which way, Not only existing in [zero sum game] hellzone. where they can actually in fact like experience similar / equivalent shit in some ways But react in ways canon would never allow. What Ifs abound. this has been a possible "oh honey i'm a joke to them too" / "but that / this isn't just a joke to you is it" edition

[recycledraccoon]

What happens next? What happens when The Bad Kids do what they do best and save the world? What happens when the RAGE is suddenly gone?

Would they ashamed of themselves? Of what they did? Of who they became?

.

.

You were a naive teenage freshman, and two teachers you trusted were manipulating you into a monster. You didn't notice, distracted by typical teenage problems and petty insecurities. You didn't fight it. You walked willingly down the easy path and became pawns in their grand plan.

You know how it started. This is how it ends.

(YOU HATE THEM THEY ARE IN YOUR WAY AND YOU ARE GOING TO KILL THEM AND PROVE YOURSELF BETTER FINALLY! THERE IS NO MORE WAITING YOU ARE CROSSING BLADES AND FLINGING SPELLS WITH UNRELENTING WRATH AND DEADLY INTENTIONS-)

They fight you. Their teamwork is flawless in a way your party's has never been. Their awareness of the battlefield and their control over it makes it all the more apparent that this battle is a raging wild thunderstorm trying to break apart a mountain standing tall and insurmountable. The mountain does not so much as bend, for all that you blast holes and carve deep into the rock. The mountain does not bend, nor bow, much less-

The storm will always break first.

It ends like this-

(WHY ISNT THIS WORKING WHY ARE THEY STILL FIGHTING THEY WONT DIE THEYWONTDIETHEYWONT-PAIN. IT HURTS! IT HURTS! NO!! NO NO NONONOPAINNOPAINNOPAINNOPAI-)

You die.

.

.

.

.

Dying like this is vengeance. It is retribution.

.

.

.

But it is not JUSTICE.

.

.

.

Let's try again.

You wake up.

(Doubt shepherds you back through the dark.

Justice and Conviction, like sunlight warm and golden, breaks over the horizon.

The rage implanted inside you dissolves into golden light to join the dawn.)

You are a Dragonborn, no longer little or weak by any means, but it still feels like nothing ever changed at all from that very first day. You feel very small, rubbing at a chest that is incredibly tender and sore.

Before your blurry eyes, are The Bad Kids. Battered, bruised, bloody. Standing tall, heroic, and undefeated.

The Cleric of Doubt and Paladin of Justice both have brought you back to breathing, and you watch in awe and horror as all of your friends are awake too.

Idly, you realise they also rub at their chests near immediately. You look down and find no red star-like gem of rage embedded there. Only ugly, fully healed scars like a jagged star.

(What have you done?)

Later, there will be questions and officials and repercussions. Justice for you will look like second chances, and the hard unending road of righting the wrongs you have done.

Death is the easy way out.

Redemption is hard.

For right now, the heroes before you are wearily celebrating, cracking jokes and rubbing blood off their faces. All the while your party is still gathering your bearings, and you have no idea where your glasses are.

Shame rolls in your gut and even as you and your friends sit together you can barely look at each other.

Finally, words are exchanged, a clearing of the board. It doesn't fix anything of what you've done, but you know without doubt if you ever try anything again they will not bring you back a second time. You settle in to wait for whatever authorities will be coming.

(Later, while you are in a cell waiting to find out what happens next, your party will be told that the friend you killed was brought back, the curse preventing her revival broken. You are not the only one in those cells to weep, loud and ugly and so so relieved.)

A pair of cracked glasses appear in front of you, held by a hand with bloody knuckles. You put them on, blink as you adjust to the cracked glass but vision once more clear. You see the bloody knuckles again, and with a jolt realize those are the hands that killed you. You died under the crunch of a furious fist you never anticipated.

You look up.

When you saw her for the first time, she was a cute, if sometimes awkward, elven girl in your Thursday classes. You kept seeing her, even as she became renowned and remarkable, even as you had been slowly getting angrier.

The first time she ever smiled at you, you had hated her already. She had been very pretty, and if you had been anything less than actively planning to kill her, you think her expert spell craft but awkward stumbling of words and red cheeks would have left you utterly enchanted in truth.

Later, before you fight and die, the look she gives you is cold and piercing, determined. The only red on her cheeks is blood that had splattered there.

You look up.

The Elven Oracle, the most powerful divination wizard you have ever met or will ever meet again, stands towering above you for all that you know logically she is at least a foot shorter than you.

Her blonde hair is a mess, clothes dirty and ripped and stained dark in some places. Her eyes flicker with the magic of the powerful Oracle she is, as she stares down at you.

(You wonder what she sees about you in those flickers.)

She frowns, lips pursed for a moment, but her hands clench and you think for moment she might punch you to death again. Or yell at you maybe, but is biting her tongue.

Instead, with one last look of piercingly cold eyes that could kill, she turns to join her friends, leaving you behind without hesitation or second thought, or even a last word.

(Good for her.)

You are a horrible coward. Selfish and capable of cruelty that makes your shame increase tenfold. She had smiled at you and chilled a drink in your hand. She defended you and called you cool to her friends that day in the cafeteria. You took advantage of that, of those tender early feelings, and crushed them under an angry, undeservingly bitter, heel.

You are a horrible selfish coward, and you don't think you've ever seen anyone more beautiful in your life than her, even as she walks away from you.

You can't ever imagine she will ever smile at you again now. What future will there ever be, where she sees you and her eyes aren't cold and scornful? Nothing more than a bitter memory to be forgotten and set aside for better things. How could she ever see anything you say or do as genuine ever again? You certainly wouldn't.

(The way your heart pounds in your chest, fast and heavy, feels like yet another sin on your sagging scaled shoulders. There is an intense moment of painful, shameful yearning that you swallow down, down, down and away. Watching her back as she walks away will be more than you ever deserve to have gotten in the first place. More than you think you will ever deserve again in whatever life you scrap together after this.)

Life, as ever, continues after that day like it always has and always will.

You go to prison for a time, as what you and your friends did as minors- manipulated or not- are legally responsible for in the aftermath is decided. You go to therapy, serve a very forgiving sentence, and when you go on parole your time is eaten up by both mandatory and voluntary community service.

You try to get better. To be better. You think you and your party are true friends now, bound together by bitter shame at what you've all done and gone through together.

(The first person who visits your party while in prison who isn't a member of any of your families, is Lucy Frostblade. Even as a Cleric of a Sorrowful God, you don't think you've ever seen her more sad than sitting across from all of you, warded glass between. There are no apologies that will ever be enough.

But Lucy has always, always been braver and stronger than any of you. The power of her conviction is something wondrous.

She always tried to be that fire to keep the cold and dark at bay, even as it risked burning her. By all the gods, you had burned her to ash, and yet here she is again. Alive and renewed. A campfire relit and flickering in the distance, promising safety and warmth.

Despite everything, Lucy sits across from all of you and promises to see you through this.)

Days go by. Never again are the seven of you known as The Rat Grinders, except in past tense when speaking the history of your sins. You don't go back to being High Five Heros, but you grow into something new together.

You still fight rage some days. It makes you feel sick and scared. You always are afraid of what is genuine emotion and what is lingering from the star-scar on your chest.

You still think about her sometimes.

(Selfishly you hope you are a distant memory to her, and she never thinks of you and your cruelty to her again. Even more selfishly, even more shamefully, there is a tiny part in your heart where you wish she doesn't forget you like you know you won't forget her. It's better to smother that part of your heart into deeper and deeper depths, hoping beyond hope that painful yearning doesn't overcome you and cause it to rise up again. She deserves a life without having to deal with people like you.)

The thing about The Bad Kids, is how ironic their name is given how genuinely and unabashedly good they are.

Lucy remains their friend, even as she helps the rest of them on their steady journey back from evil.

This means it's inevitable that the two once rival parties meet again. It's awkward at first, but The Bad Kids give them shit and rag on them as easily as they extend kindness. You will meet more people and realize that you are not the first villains in their lives they've forgiven.

You give the beautiful Elven Oracle as a sincere apology for the past as you can. She quirks an eyebrow at you, and as lovely a sight as it is, the shame is greater. You don't know if she believes you in the slightest. You don't want to find out.

You do your best to not bother her at all, on the occasions the two parties meet.

(Try as you might, you are powerless to stop your eyes from locking onto her the second she enters any room you are in. You always look away as quickly and casually as you can, frazzled heart pounding like a traitor. It's harder to not watch whenever she walks away, the memory of the day she walked away from you locked in your mind like crystal glass.)

You keep moving forward. Life goes on. You keep a pair of cracked spectacles in a box in your closet. On the bad days, when you hate yourself the most, you look and remember that you have been given kindness and a second chance by people who hated you. If they gave you a second chance, you feel it would be in poor taste to not extend yourself that same courtesy.

You and your friends become legally speaking, free souls. You get qualifications and find work that feels right for you. There are some things you and your friends never joke about again, but you find new things to fill in those gaps.

You move on. You're not sure if it's working sometimes, but you keep moving anyway. Relationships become easier, you try new things and meet more people. You have a whole life left to live. One day you find yourself capable and confident, which is a bit of a surprise. You try every day to be as sincere and honest as you can.

(Sometimes, you feel a powerful, almost familiar, gaze on you. You were a coward once. You never took on a quest you thought you couldn't beat, the fear of failure hanging above too great. It's been a long time, and you are a very different person now. You are still too much of a coward to ever turn around to find that gaze.)

One day, you agree to go do a job as a favor to a friend. Your field is specialized, and you enjoy working in a field that makes your brain work, writing out pages and pages of complicated maths and spell work. Either way, you have the qualifications and are confident you can get it done and settled far faster and better than anyone else your friend could have asked.

You go to the job, and are caught off guard and flustered when there happens to be a beautiful Elven woman also working on the project. She looks up at you with a powerful gaze, a cocked eyebrow and a smirk that feels a little like a challenge, a dare.

(You want to run away, hide, calm the heart that you find to be a selfish, shameful traitor even after all this time. It pounds in your chest hard enough your afraid it might just kill you.)

You walk in to get started, hands already reaching for a folder of information being handed to you from a college as you gets the run down, ready to work.

Minor thoughts on Oisin and how he seems primed to fuck over Adaine specifically. The flustered ping-pong balls that were a plan all along. The quoting her own words on the previous Elven Oracle back at her in regards to the storm.

I mean...imagine you're a skinny little dragonborn wizard, in a class with a cute elven girl. You don't talk to her, but one of your adventuring party members is pissing thinking that party is getting preferential treatment, so you KNOW about her. You watch from the corner of your eye or from a spot on the back of the class whenever she's actually there. Partway through the year she goes to jail, and when she comes back she and her adventuring party save the world from a dragon. (A dragon of whom your Grandmother had been fond. ((Also, coincidentally, the Vice Principal.))) One of them created a god.

(Your entire party is being groomed into rage by two of your teachers.)

You're in her class again. She is the Elven Oracle, already an accomplished adventurer. She and her friends are popular. She's very pretty. She does not know your name. She does not know who you are, just a skinny dragonborn a few seats back.

You go on your Sophomores Year Spring Break Adventure and don't bother to think about her party at all.

(You and your party are going to kill a god. Your teacher is going to ascend to godhood in their place and you and your party will have Made That Happen. You are angry and determined with each final blow you deal.)

You return from Spring Break angry and with a sore chest.

You find out the elven girl's party has resurrected a dead god and the live streamed the entire fight. They must think they're so much better than you and your party. You'll show them.

(Your friend refuses to change her faith. She cancels the paperwork. The rest of you kill her, confident she will make the right choice and join you again as a proper Champion for your new god. You help kill her. She does not get back up. You hide the body and none of you can say anything. You're so so angry.)

The world descended into darkness and you can do nothing. The sun finally breaks across the sky again right before Junior year. You and your party have made plans and are on the cusp of greatness. You've gained muscles to spare and ink on your scales in carefully selected runes, no longer just a skinny little dragonborn.

(You have a new cleric. He's not your friend. He's a haystack hick from that cult-church from Freshman year, and he's here because the god you're going to kill needs a Champion and he fits the bill, nothing more.)

The first day of school the plan starts to be put in motion. Immediately that party of kids is interfering, in your way. It rackles. You push on anyway, seething inside even as you act the part of being reasonable.

You go to a party at the houses of one of her friends. You've been practicing making spell runes on the inside of ping-pong balls. You're ready.

The pretty Elven girl in your class finally looks at you. She approaches you, gives you a drink, and chills it in your hand. She has to ask your name. You have shared certain wizarding classes with her since Freshman year, tho she was barely there. You have to tell her that.

You chat. She clearly gets flustered, calls you great, and flees back into the house. Your friend teases you for others to overhear. It's a convenient excuse to use your geometry and apply physics to miss every single shot and lay your trap. The drink isn't so perfectly chilled in your hand anymore.

(You talk to her. Play nice. She isn't smooth, but she smiled at you and maybe a part of you is vindictive in seeing her flustered. It's a shame she turned down the diamonds, as dragon madness would have been so poetic. You steal her summons to steal something from the house. She didn't know your name. Didn't remember you. You feel justified. Your anger burns cold like frostbite, like static in the air. You purposely don't wonder if that first miss was intentional or genuine.)

You see each other in class sometimes.

You plot and kill monsters the woods. You will win the battle. You will win the war.

Your parties have a standoff in the cafeteria. You play your part to diffuse the situation, your teacher has been harping on your friends to stop antagonizing the other party. You feel her mind touch yours gentle probing of intentions, her friends all around her as you lock eyes.

(The devil's honey your group gets from that bee girl all goes to your teacher. He is preparing himself to ascend to godhood, and he needs it for his prayers.)

She is searching for your intentions and feelings. You tell her only 'Sorry'. She believes you. You are not entirely sure why. She and her party will hopefully die during their Last Stand exam, and have no way to revive themselves in time, be trapped there until after elections.

Maybe she just wasn't perceptive enough to see the deception.

(You hate her and all her friends. You have had no devil's honey. She believes you. Briefly, you wonder if it was a lie at all.)

They catch you. They know. Your team goes to ground and waits out the remaining days 'til elections and the culmination of everything you've been working for.

It rains at the party, and you have no more masks. You are angry. She must never have been that good of an Oracle at all, and you take joy in mocking her with her own words from long ago.

She's nothing more than an elven girl in your class who was full of herself to remember your name.

(There is nothing left now to stop you from being as openly angry as you like.)