#I don't know if it will actually make a difference in her behavior as i genuinely have spoken up

[bunnys-kisses]

the big, bad wolf(f)

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, hybrid au, wolf!toto, rabbit!reader, needy!toto, size difference/kink, missionary style, age difference (20s/50s)

a/n: this is part of a f1 hybrid au, i haven't stopped making bakery prompts, this is just something a tiny bit different! if have any ideas to share lemme know!

"my, my, what big teeth you have, mister wolff." you came close to him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders before you sat down in his lap.

toto's wolf-like ears twitched at your words before he leaned in close to you. he cupped your face softly and gazed into your eyes with his dark ones, "teeth, my love." he held you a little closer to him and kissed at your arm, "i guess all the more to bite you with."

he watched your ears twitch a little. cute bunny behavior. he reached for one of your long ears and touched it gently. he watched you squirm a little and he chuckled. he knew you liked that.

toto could be a little scary. he stood much taller than you, and could easily pick you up. with pointed dark ears and a tail that you often rubbed up against when he didn't (or couldn't) give you attention.

you pressed your thumbs against his lips and giggled, "but you wouldn't eat someone like me. you love me too much." then kissed him on the lips.

an alarmingly younger bunny girlfriend and the rich older wold who loved her. it was a match made in heavy. he knew that it turned a few heads, especially when you were dressed in something cute.

he had to restructure your wardrobe so you weren't in softer colours every day, and everyone in the neighbourhood started to make assumptions. you were a university graduate, even though your degree was more wall decoration than actually used.

"i don't know, hase." he cupped your behind and pulled you closer to you. he buried his nose against you and took a small inhale, which was still enough to make the ticklish bunny in his lap jolt. he said as he held onto you tighter, "be still."

you felt a warmth in your body as you looked at him. eventually his face were between your breasts. the prettiest breasts toto had ever seen. he groaned.

you knew your older boyfriend was craving rabbit. you held his head and pressed your breasts up against him. he groaned and held onto you harder.

"does the big bad wolf want a taste of bunny?" you said lowly and hear him deeply exhale. you were going to be the death of him. you tilted his head to look at you and you giggled at the sight of him, "c'mon, honey, let's get you into bed." then got up off his lap, but you didn't get too far. as your wolf lover was close behind you.

your bunny ears twitched a little bit, and toto wanted to yank on them while you rode him. he hated that he felt a slave to instinct. but it was hard not to when his lover was just soft in all the ways he was tough. he was surprised a little bunny like you could take someone like him.

he knew he was so much bigger and had a domineering power over most. but you with those cute little ears, beautiful eyes, and cheerful demeanor, toto was a a panting dog.

when you got close enough to the bed and tried to get your slippers off, toto pushed you onto the bed ass up and you made a small panicked noise as you hit the bed then felt the weight of your lover on top of you.

you yelped and kicked your legs out a little bit and toto had his hands under you and was groping at your choice heavily. he wanted to feel his lovely rabbit.

"don't tear my clothes, you animal!" you kicked out a little more and felt your lover get off of your back and slowly take off your clothes. while the clothes weren't particularity expensive, it was a good pair of t-shirt and sleeping shorts (both stolen from your lover). it was hard to find comfort in most clothes these days!

before he took your sports bra on, he got you onto your back and groped at your chest. he shuddered a little bit at the sight of you, almost naked for him.

"such a pretty rabbit." he noticed the twitch in your ears and he rubbed his clothed cock up against your barely clothed front, "beautiful." he said, "i could put you between my teeth and just bite down. but i'd rather make you cum." something wild ran through toto when he was with you.

soon you were naked and you began to help toto out of his clothes. his large hands on you as you unbuttoned his dark blue shirt. your hands were a little shakey as you undid every last button.

toto eyed you carefully before he was able to take the shirt off his shoulders. you whined a little bit as the sight of you, but he took you by the chin and pulled you in for a heated kiss.

"so lovely." he said, his lips so close to yours. he watched you squirm a little bit as you panted heavily against his lips. he felt like a dream, you felt heat do its rounds in your core.

both striped as naked as you could get. toto kept you on your back with your legs spread for him. he licked his lips, his gaze felt hot. almost like a predator. he leaned into your touch when you ran your hand through his dark hair.

"you should let it go grey." you remarked.

he chuckled as he invaded your space more, his eyes level with yours with his chest pressed against you, "no, no, hase. me all grey and you in those soft sweaters. people will get alarmed."

you giggled, "as if you're not like a foot taller than me. the little bunny and the big bad wolf!" then held onto his shoulders as he got his hands on your hips.

his larger cock pressed up against you. you shuddered a little bit at the feeling of it against you. you gasped when he inched it inside of you. his dark eyes on you as you squirmed a little bit.

"are you okay, hase? not too much pain?" he might be a wolf, and you might be a bunny, but he didn't want to harm you. you were his perfect rabbit. he clutched onto your hips as he moved himself against you.

he slowly got as deep as he could go and he watched your expression grow softer. a little blissed out as he got his entire length into you. you squirmed a little and felt the heat in your body grow.

you were beautiful under him. like the sweetest fruit on the tree, or the most tender rabbit in the field. of course, toto had to sink his teeth into your shoulder as you moved against him. he watched your toes curl and your legs kick out from the hot feeling of it all.

"my rabbit." he said, his voice tinged with a desperate want, "i need you. i need you every day of my life. you excite me in so many ways. you look beautiful under me."

you glowed a little under his attention and felt your stomach do small flips as he moved against you. your cute little cunt took him perfectly. everything about you was always so much smaller than the big scary predator you called a lover. the hungry wolf that was desperate for pretty bunny cunt. but, toto would always take care of you! he wasn't a crazy person.

he knew that he had to take care of his little rabbit, even if that meant thrusting up into her wildly. that made keeping your pussy nice was wet with his cum. he rutted against you and snapped his jaws a little from the pleasure of it all.

"my beautiful rabbit." he purred as he continued to move up against you. you fit him perfectly, he remembered when it was a bit of a struggle. but it wasn't your fault, you were just made so small for him. but nothing a little training wouldn't have fixed. you whimpered and whined as he fucked you.

"please, toto." you whined as you arched your back a little. pressed yourself further against him as he got a good look at every curve on your sweet body.

he once told a friend of his that bunnies fucked the best. the cutest little hybrids, pussies can take a beating and toto loved yours most of all. got him addicted to sweet cunt and cute smiles. he knew if you were on top, you'd be bouncing on him with that same blissed out look.

toto knew he was far gone with you. he knew that he wanted to make you his little bunny bride. then he'd make sure that nothing else could have you the way he did. except maybe a toy for when he wasn't home, something to occupy that cunt of yours. but, nothing else. no one else.

he was a wolf possessive of his little pack.

he continued to brush up against the softest parts of you, your pussy like a grip around his achy cock. he could feel his heartbeat in his throat the more he fucked you. he was egged on by your sweet sounds and your soft breasts up against him.

he gripped onto your hips tighter and heard you let out a sweet, almost sugary moan as he moved up against you. his cock hit all the right places for you. he knew he was going to leave you pretty insides all bruised, but you loved it.

you love when sex with him hurt a little, a reminder for days of how well he took care of you. he pressed into you further, his lips found yours as the two of you feverishly made out.

the bed squeaked under you, and it paired like a symphony with your beautiful muffled moans. when he broke the kiss you panted heavily.

"you pant like a dog." he said in a hot tone that left a shiver through you. he knew you were getting close. he could tell by how tense you were and the expression across your face.

his pace continued and soon you were holding onto him tightly. your arms hung around his neck as you grasped the back of his neck. you held onto him tighter via your legs as he thrusted as hard as he could. the bed moved under you and you felt a sense of euphoria when you climaxed.

"ah! toto!!" you whimpered as you came, leaving his cock fully slick with your wetness down to his balls. you clung to him like a lifeline while he battered the back of your sweet pussy. with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside you as well.

he marked your pretty insides with his cum and heard you whimper loudly into his ear. he eventually slowed to a stop before he was able to catch his breath. pleasure ran through his body like a lifeline. he tried to stop but your pussy called him back.

he was only able to stop himself when he saw how tired you look. bunnies fucked well, but they got easily tired out. all that energy in such a small package.

"do you mind if i take you again?" he asked softly as he took you in his arms. he watched you nod and say yes softly before he put you on your stomach and held your hips up.

he still needed his rabbit. he needed to feel your gooey insides and get himself off. you were so perfect for him, letting him use you while you get comfortable on your shared bed. he slipped his cock into you once more and knew that he would never get enough of his sweet bunny's cunt. <3

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[itsabouttimex2]

I hope this isn't an odd question

But, do you think Wukong or Macaque would act or treat different their "cub" if they genders were swapped or being a female version? This is also for a Yan behavior

I don't know too much about how is the raising of a monkey from the father and mother so I was curious with this since they're both mystical demons

I was thinking about this when I saw some fanarts from the artist @/car_nimbus on Twitter, they made a neat versions of the characters with another gender

Monkey Mama

(Hmm okay let me build a hypothetical OG “Female Monkey King” to work off of here and then I’ll try to translate that into LMK’s SWK. Also, I’ll probably make a second variation of this afterwards with other characters, haha. This got a little long to do both SWK and Mac!)

Sun Wukong as a character is already heavily defined by rebellion and personal choice, so I think that making him a girl only really compounds that layer of his character.

In many older narratives, female characters are often expected to be more obedient or modest than men, and very frequently only exist as prizes or, more rarely, villains. A female Sun Wukong; assuming she plays the same role as her original incarnation, defies the expectations of how “traditional” women should behave, shirking the demure and passive “ideal” and adding another layer of rebellion to her character.

(JTTW is actually pretty great in terms of female representation, with characters ranging from the perpetually good Quanyin, the eventually repentant Princess Iron Fan, and the straight up evil White Bone Spirit. I’m a big fan of how the women aren’t slid into any one “role” throughout the story.)

I think: in story, she’d likely be viewed as a sort of “anomaly”—a woman too strong, too outspoken, and too unwilling to conform to typical feminine ideals. Her defiance and arrogance might be viewed as even more scandalous by the Celestial Realm.

Instead of being made a “stable-keeper”, I think probably she’s sent to whatever Heavenly Scullery exists in that divine realm, and put to work very quickly. She would treat this “job” with indifference or even amusement at first-after all, physical labor or menial tasks don't diminish her self-worth or confidence! She’s had a life of hard work, leading an army of Yaoguai, cultivating Flower Fruit Mountain,

So she’s fine with this… at first. Then it turns out that the food she makes with her fellow low-class workers isn’t distributed amongst the people making it, but plated up nice and pretty for a bunch of “stuffy old gods” who didn’t lift a finger! Bullshit!

So obviously, the prideful Monkey Queen goes on a destructive rampage in regards to the unfair disparity of treatment, then storms back down to Earth to throw a “feel-better” party with her fellow Yaogaui.

(Which isn’t just a party, but a symbolic reclaiming of joy and community, with her monkey tribe representing the freedom she craves and the earthly bonds she prefers over heavenly authority. It's not just an escape, but a statement of independence.)

After an extensive set of repairs, the Court sends down someone to drag her back, because, you know, the local super-powered monkey is back on the loose, and that’s not exactly great for them. This time, they offer her a “better” role- she gets to become an official Peach Maiden, lucky her!

Of course, it’s just another form of entrapment, but within a prettier cage. Even though she's given a cushier position, it's a veneer- she's still being silenced, controlled, and stripped of her freedom. The role played by a Peach Maiden is an inversion of Wukong's essence, as these women are happily serving the role of passive caretakers, nurturing with gentle smiles—a direct contrast to the free-willed, brash nature of the Monkey Queen.

(And while there’s nothing wrong with being demure, passive, and feminine, having people try to force her into that role is where Sun Wukong draws her line.)

Here, she is expected to watch in silence as others revel in the freedom and power denied to her. It's a different kind of prison, one that quietly erodes her spirit. When the Celestial Court tries to reintegrate her as a Peach Maiden, they are once again attempting to place her into a docile, decorative role, one that strips away her power and independence. Those immortal peach orchards, a symbol of immortality and divine favor, becomes a prison for her.

Surrounded by "ideal" women who embody the quiet, submissive role she despises, the Monkey Queen finds herself chafing under the pressure of conformity. Her energy, once boundless and chaotic, is now caged, and the simmering resentment builds.

The buildup to her inevitable rebellion after being made a Peach Maiden, then, becomes a very sympathetic moment because it's not just a rejection of the role forced on her, but a rejection of the very system that tries to diminish who she is at her core. Her rebellion isn’t about anger and shame- it’s about reclaiming her true self after having been suffocated by the expectations of the Celestial Court. Her rampage becomes an assertion of her identity as something that can't be confined by heavenly rules or social mores.

The Court, in its attempt to “contain" her, only fuels her defiance further, leading her once again to rebel.

It was never going to end well. But it ends all the same, and punishment is to be levied to the Queen, just the same as any other rebellious rule-breaker... actually, probably harsher.

There’s “you broke our rules and tried to lead a coup”, then there’s “you did all that, and we also find your very person to be wrong on a fundamental level”, and then she gets the book thrown at her twice over.

But! Then she meets Tang Sanzang, who sees something in her that neither the Celestial Realm nor her own band of Sworn Brothers saw. Not a heretic simian savaging a holy realm. Not a Queen to rally behind for their own gain.

But a lost soul in need of guidance.

And from there the Great Monk works on building Sun Wukong up as a person instead of leading her astray or trying to cut massive chunks of her personality out? And talks to her about the things she cares about? And teaches her about all the things she missed after spending five hundred years under a rock?

And then she meets Zhu Baije, who starts out a little too happy and carefree about having a beautiful woman around, but eventually comes to smash open heads when Wukong is disrespected, because that’s not just a hot woman, that’s his sister?

Or Sha Wujing, who helps her with even the smallest things, from trimming her claws to cutting her wild hair to preparing meals for the monk? And lets her perch on his shoulders and head so the queen can get some skinship in?

Then Ao Lie, who is every bit the “disappointment to the world at large” that she was considered? And they take turns braiding each other’s hair and wiping the mess from the other’s face, and sleeping in the same tent and same bedroom because it’s less effort?

She gets a dad and three little brothers?

She gets a family.

And then loses it and is alone again for several hundred years more.

So if we go with this theoretical “My natural existence has been rejected for being seen as ‘improper’ by a court of stuffy traditional assholes” and then “I dearly love/miss my dead found family” angle, I think she’d be portrayed as a very different sort of character in LMK.

She’s quicker to lash out and defend herself, and much less willing to sit around and let the world pass her by- because that’s what was demanded of her by the Celestial Realm.

Be good. Be quiet. Be demure. Be obedient. Be anything except you.

I don’t think she’d be as willing to “rest on her laurels” as her canon counterpart, given that a “quiet boring life” was what she had fought so very hard to escape in the first place, so instead of isolating herself from the world in the first place, she probably sets up a little “souvenir shop” at the foot of Flower Fruit Mountain, taking a human form to sell little knick-knacks that herald to the journey she undertook with her old friends.

In part, this is how Wukong works to honor them. To spread their legacy. To ensure that they aren’t forgotten, left as a footnote in the annals of history. To remember them.

In part, it’s how she justifies all the mistakes she’s made and the suffering she’s been through. Settling in to a pointlessly relaxed life is exactly what she fought against, after all. She’s heavily fallen into the “sunk-cost fallacy”, where giving up and settling in, to her, means “losing”. It means “everything I went through was all for nothing”. So she keeps at this little store instead of just retiring and isolating herself from the world, even though she’d be happier to ditch it and lounge about.

So when MK and his eccentric bunch of friends comes around with their boundless energy and mischief, she immediately goes, “Oh, okay! This is what I wanted!”

(It’s not. All she’s ever wanted is her friends back. How could there be anything else?)

The Monkie Kids are vibrant, eccentric, and full of qualities that immediately resonate with Wukong. They remind her of the energy, camaraderie, and sense of adventure that she once shared with her old companions. She sees MK's arrival not just as a chance to teach someone a few of her old tricks, but as an echo of her own life—a life she hasn't been able to truly let go of.

So she starts projecting- on the surface, MK is very much like her. He's spirited, good-natured, and curious- and reckless. Just like she was. Wukong latches onto this quickly, sort of using the kid as a proxy for herself. After all, if she can't go back to her old life, why not embrace a new one that feels close enough? In some ways, this marks her refusal to accept the passage of time, a desperate clinging to the hope that, through MK, she can rekindle the connections she once cherished.

However, underneath that initial enthusiasm is the repressed understanding that MK, despite his similarities to her younger self, cannot truly replace what she lost. The friends she fought beside, the battles they waged together, and the lessons they learned are unique, irreplaceable moments in her life. No matter how much MK’s gang reminds her of the past, he and his friends a stand-in for the companions she still longs for. But her deep desire to reconnect with her old friends clouds her ability to see MK for who he truly is: his own person, on his own journey.

It takes her a while to get to that point, though. So she’s more doting and affectionate, in a way that somewhat stifles her student’s training because she wants to be both her old carefree self and also a good mentor, and the two just get jumbled.

Sidenote: I think with the difference in actions and behavior, MK would be more open to viewing Fem!Wukong as a parental figure than the OG, especially since he doesn’t really have someone to fulfill that “mom” role.

For their dynamic, I think something like this would be the outcome:

———————————————————————-

The afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, painting the landscape in hues of varied orange and blue. With a tired hand, MK wipes the sweat from his brow.

He’s perched on one of the rocky spires dotting Flower Fruit Mountain, gazing at the view with a small smile of accomplishment. Training had been intense lately… if only because he had been doubling down on the time he spent practicing, without giving as much care to rest or aftercare.

After all, even though his powers were blooming steadily… his enemies also were growing in power and quantity, leading to the ever-creeping edge of fear that anything less than a constant one-hundred percent just wouldn’t be “enough”.

And right as he reaches back to grab the golden staff he has inherited from the Monkey Queen-

“MK! I told you to take a break, not run off to do more training!”

Her voice, uncharacteristically sharp, cuts through the formerly tranquil air, causing MK to jump. He turns just in time to see Sun Wukong strolling toward him, her hands on her hips and a look of mock annoyance on her face.

MK grinned sheepishly, shifting his grass-stained boots against the dirt. “I was just, you know… checking out the view.”

She raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement as her eyes narrowed in annoyance. This kid... “Uh-huh. Checking out the view or sneaking in some practice when I wasn’t looking?”

Caught fast in his lie, MK rubbed the back of his neck, face scrunching up in embarrassment. “Maybe a little of both?”

In spite of herself, Sun Wukong quietly laughs, the sound echoing like a chiming bell through the mountain. Her long, golden hair flowed behind her in the wind, each strand catching the light like molten fire. Despite her legendary status- the rebellious warrior who’d fought the heavens and nearly won!- there was a warmth to her that MK had come to cherish.

“All work and no play, MK,” she said, sitting beside him on the rock and ruffling his hair with a fondness that always made him feel like a little kid again. “You’ll burn out before you get anywhere.”

He looked at her, eyes shining with admiration. “But you never stop training. You’ve been at this for centuries! I just…”

A pause, as his chest turns over, unsettled by the notion of opening up. But… it’s the Monkey Queen. So it.. should be okay, right?

“I want to make you proud.”

Sun Wukong’s expression softens, and she wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling the boy close in a tight embrace. “You already make me proud, kid. You don’t have to prove anything.”

MK leaned into the touch, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him. Even from the start she’d been like this with him- protective, nurturing… and maybe a bit overbearing at times. But he didn’t mind. It made him feel safe, like no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn’t alone.

MK chuckled, turning his face up to meet his idol’s eyes.” I’ll keep up,” he triumphantly declares, pumping a fist.” I promise.”

“Good.” Wukong shifted, her clawed hand lightly missing his spiked locks. “Now, how about we head back to the shop and grab something to eat? You’ve earned it.”

MK’s stomach growled at the mention of food, and he nodded so eagerly that she wondered if his head wouldn’t ache from the motion. “You know, I won’t say no to a good meal.”

The Monkey Queen stood up, dusting off her mentee’s clothes before offering him a hand. “Of course you won’t. C’mon, my treat.”

———————————————————————-

Now, to answer your question about how she acts in regards to her own cub… in general I think she’s much more doting than the OG, willing to express herself through constant displays of physical affection, in ways that are far more varied.

Constant forehead smooching, cuddles, grooming sessions, all of it! Mama Wukong never wants to let go of her baby! Sit down and let her paint your nails! Let her comb and braid your hair! Let her make you a nice lunch (loaded with mystical drugs to keep you nice and sleepy for extra cuddles), or at least a filling snack! Let her pepper your face with kisses as she spins you in her powerful arms!

Lots and lots of indulgent fluffy days of binging unhealthy foods and watching cozy reruns of old shows, your head in her lap as she hums and does up your hair with her lazy hands.

Lots of reminiscing about old suitors as she considers the quietest and quickest ways to kill anyone who makes the futile attempt to pursue you in the same way.

Despite her obsessive behavior, Wukong struggles with conflicting feelings about wanting her child to be strong and independent, just like her! She pushes you to train hard and become powerful, but when you inevitably seek their own freedom or autonomy, she’d experience a mix of pride and heartbreak, pushing her deeper into possessive tendencies.

If you ever tried to leave or even just start to break away, Wukong’s worst traits would bubble up like hellfire. Just as she fought against an entire realm’s authority, she would absolutely wage a war to keep her child close, all while justifying her actions as love.

The Monkey Queen is also more willing to take routes outside of brute force if it means securing extra protection for Y/N. If Macaque or maybe Azure (or someone else like Erlang Shen) wants to try and play “suitor”, well, she’s not too interested… until the thought arises that having him around makes you extra safe! And then she’s willing to think on it.

(That’s assuming that you aren’t one of their biological kids to begin with, in which case there might be a sort of “yandere triangle”. Azure/Macaque/Erlang Shen doing his damndest to reclaim his wife, before he learns that she’s had a child while he was gone... or maybe Pigsy and Tang decided that MK needs his mentor in a more ‘accessible’ position, and plot to drag her to Megapolis…)

Lots of potential monkey mama shenanigans, basically!

[shidoukanae]

Chapter 75 and 76 have been so funny for male lead characters suddenly spouting red flag lines.

Paris's is expected because the narrative has always been honest about how he's got a screw loose but seeing the 2nd lead syndrome guy pining hopelessly after Lyla seemingly imply he was trying to make her unhappy with his presence is ???? huh????

like im aware my very loose translations are probably scuffed as fuck and there's room for further interpretation but man is this manga a ride lmao. It never feels like a chapter is wasted and that there's always something more to be learned about this world, its story, and its characters. And it means every chapter is never a letdown because there's always SOMETHING happening and it makes me !!! to see

[teethcore]

ok so i guess the good thing about having Extreme Compartmentalization Disorder is that when there are enough horrible, painful, and stressful factors, i section off my feelings into a guy, and that lets me accomplish things i would've otherwise been incapable of?

[stellacendia]

Re: my last post about cis people just utterly failing to understand how I exist outside the gender binary cause I'm still thinking about it and it's still making me mad. One example of this is how much they buy into bioessentialism, cause it's never occurred to them that it's bullshit.

A couple months ago I was talking about how I think if I ever become a parent I'd want to be my kid's mother (as opposed to their father)- cause I'm not a woman but you can be a mother without being a woman- and my friend goes "Oh! Do you think it's because you have maternal instincts instead of paternal instincts?"

And I'm just like. Wtf are you talking about? No?

And she goes "oh yeah it's like a scientific thing they've observed even in animals! Fathers just feel no parental instincts at all until they have kids and then suddenly boom! They have all these parenting feelings!"

And then I was doubly like wtf because that's just. So stupid. I made a comment about wondering how much of that was actually societal and how boys are raised versus how girls are raised, and she was just like "no actually it's an unchangeable biological fact!"

And now it gives me such weird feelings every time I think about it like... I'm slowly coming around to the idea that maybe I do want to be a father but... Am I feeling that cause I'm getting more comfortable with masculine labels applying to me? Am I feeling that because she just made me feel so goddamn weird about maybe still liking a feminine label despite the fact that I don't identify with womanhood?

I love her so much, and I know she loves me. I know she supports me in my gender discovery, and she's been so helpful with it- helping me pick out new clothes, and being respectful of my pronouns, and being a listening ear when I need to talk about new feelings about my sexuality, and all that. And I know she's incredibly smart, and she's open to being educated on issues she doesn't know much about, and she's aware that she just doesn't know much about trans stuff. She knows she needs to examine some of her biases and assumptions.

But then she says stuff like this, and.... Idk. It just makes me feel so gross. And I have no idea how to talk to her about it. I want to be able to challenge her when she says things like this, and I want to be able to push back on these ideas and make her really question them but..... she just says it so confidently, and I am so bad at disagreeing with people even over totally trivial things, and I know as much as I want to I'll just never pluck up the courage to say anything to her in the moment. I want her to talk to other genderqueer people. I want her to read the things they write, hear the things they say, and maybe start to cross examine her views on her own, without me holding her hand through it all. I don't want to be the only one educating her on this stuff. It's exhausting, and emotionally painful.

I'm just.... tired

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[peachesofteal]

Light On - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

You're early.

Your little knock on the door sends him into a spiral of panic, brain splitting in half, trying to figure out if he can hide his mortifying failure from you and still save dinner.

You knock again.

"Hey, sorry, I know we're early but-" You peel off with a sniff, nose wrinkling slightly, lips tucking together. You're wearing a lip stick, or a lip gloss, or something? And your hair is done. "Is something burning?"

"No!" He blurts. "No, uh. I'm just... cooking. Come in, come in."

He did actually, burn dinner. He burnt it so bad he had to order delivery, Thai on the fly, much to your excitement, and he files the knowledge of one of your favorite foods away for the future. The two of you eat together, little bits and pieces being given to Emmaline from your finger, and by the time you're finished, he's nearly worked up the nerve to start talking.

"So..." your voice trails, awkwardly, and you glance at him before looking away, finding a spot on the wall to study. Here goes nothing.

"I ah, wanted to explain, my behavior... from the other night." He starts, rubbing the nape of his neck. You watch him expectantly, Emmaline on your lap, and when he falters, you give him an encouraging nod.

"I'm listening."

"How I reacted, how I spoke to you was... unfair. It was cruel and I never want to make you upset, like that." You nod. "What I do- my job- it's... it can be dangerous. Stressful. Our last mission was difficult and I... operate in a different headspace at work. It's what keeps me alive. Makes me good at what I do." Skip the killing part, LT, Soap's voice reminds him, and he pushes on. "I was still decompressing, when you came to the door and I didn't want you to see me... like that."

"With your war paint." You quip, and he pauses, head cocked. "You had black stuff, around your eyes?"

"Yes, with my war paint. I didn't want you to..." He loses it for a second, flailing in the wind, mind scrambling as he tries to put the words together. Just say it. Tell the truth. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I don't think I could stand it. It's no excuse but, I guess, I thought you deserved an explanation."

"You're right." You say slowly. "It's not an excuse." You sigh, twirling a fork through the last of your noodles. "I'm not mad at you, not anymore. I just... it's hard you know. To put yourself out there, when you're a single mom. And a widow. I thought, maybe... you didn't-"

"I do." He cuts you off. "I... you and Emmaline, you're the best things that have happened in a long time. I-"

"Oh my god!" you gasp, and he instinctually startles, muscles going stiff as he surveys the flat.

"What?"

"It's snowing! Sorry, just uh..." You're already standing, hand half reaching towards him, excited smile on your face. "Emmaline's never seen snow before, can we... this is her first winter." You explain, and then move towards the balcony, fidgeting with his door lock, huffing in frustration when you can't figure it out.

"I got it." He says, not mentioning that it's custom, and slides it free, pushing the door wide so you can go outside. You're vibrating with joy, smile wide and big, and even Emmaline feels it, watching her mum, little face lit up the same as yours.

"Look, baby. Look!" You point, and then cup your palm, letting fat white flakes fall into your hand, tilting to show Emma, and she cackles with excitement, pudgy hand slapping against yours, bringing the melting snow to her mouth. You laugh with her, staring back up at the sky before glancing over to where he stands in the doorway, enraptured. The snow is caught in your hair, on your nose, in your eyelashes, the same as the baby, both of you glowing on his fucking balcony like angels on earth, sent to him from someone up there who might love him.

"Thanks, mum." he whispers to himself, to her, ducking inside to grab the blanket from the couch so he can wrap the two of you up in it to keep you at least a little warm and protected from the elements. "I wish you could have met them."

When he reappears, you're still catching flakes, this time with your tongue, hardly paying attention until he's settling the blanket on your shoulders and stepping back to watch, content to try to memorize every single second.

"Come here." You call, extending a hand, wiggling your fingers. "Try to catch one on your tongue." But he can't move.... he's too stunned, standing there before you, staring, and it gives you pause. "Simon." You whisper, head tipped back. The balcony lamp reflects in your eyes, snowflakes and yellow shine glowing back at him, the entire world lit up inside them, and his hand finds your cheek, cupping it with his bare palm, thumb stroking across the velvet that is your skin.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. So, so sorry." His voice sounds thick, fractured, and you smile, leaning into him, Emmaline's warm weight between your bodies.

"I know... I... I understand now." You look away, for a second, taking a deep breath before blinking rapidly, tears just barely there on your waterline. "I can't... losing Emma's dad, before she was even born I- I can't... I don't want to go through anything like that again, Simon. I'm scared." It's a confession, horrifying and real, terrified and heartbreaking. All he can do is tell you the truth. Tell you what he feels. What he knows.

"You don't have to be scared." He murmurs, low and soft, other hand coming to gently support Emmaline's back. "Not with me. I promise you." What is he doing, what is he doing, what is he- what is he promising? To live forever? To never hurt you? To never let either of you be hurt? To claw his way back to you, even in death?

He looks down at you, at Emma, and the world freezes. He sees everything so clearly, the image of his future, of yours- a little house with a yard, another baby. Emmaline a big sister, so proud and excited. All of you tucked away somewhere secret and safe.

He takes a deep breath, exhale crystalizing in the air, water vapor falling like a halo around you, and his confession comes unbidden, so easily given to you. "I want to kiss you."

"Okay." You answer, and then he moves, closing the gap, slowly pressing his lips to the warmth of yours, blood pooling beneath his skin, heat flowing between your bodies. You taste like heaven, mouth sweet and easy for him, parting with a tiny gasp, and it overpowers him to the point where he thinks his knees might give out. He can't help but hold your closer, arm tightening around your back, finger stroking down the length of your spine-

Emma cries. It's not really a cry, more like a little shout, and you pull away abruptly, giggly expression on your face.

"What's wrong baby girl." He hums, patting her back, tucking the blanket tighter around your arm and her body.

"I think she's upset she's going to have to share you. You're her favorite nowadays, you know." You tease, and his grin is so heavy on his face, but so light at the same time, something completely foreign and wild, the breadth of happiness something he hasn't felt in so many years. "And she's probably cold."

"Should we go inside?" He motions, somewhat relieved to get both of you out of the cold, and when you nod, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently.

"We should."

[genderqueerdykes]

i got paired up with a new therapist who specializes in and works primarily with neurodivergent patients. i felt comfortable enough to tell her that i'm autistic. she asked if i've ever received a formal diagnosis- i said no, because i've attempted in the past and i've been turned down because i'm "too articulate," i "speak too well," and they see my feminine deadname and that i'm legally AFAB and dismiss me, because "women can't be autistic".

my therapist told me that self-diagnosis is valid.

as we continued to talk through that session, she readily pointed out several autistic behaviors that i had been displaying without even realizing; i began infodumping about queer history and psychology without even realizing it, which she pointed out and then remarked that those are definitely special interests of mine. i felt floored. i knew these things about myself, but she acknowledged them effortlessly without hesitation.

in the next session, she pointed out that my tendency to re-analyze social interactions well past the time that they are over is also an autistic trait, and that i wasn't ruminating anxiously, but rather that's just how many autistic people process- we "over" analyze things in ways that allistics do not. it's difficult for many of us to figure out the entirety of what's happening in the moment, we process over time.

after that, she told me that during our next session, she wanted to spend that appointment talking about my special interests so she could get a better picture of me- specifically using that wording, calling them special interests.

after years of trying and failing to get acknowledgement for my neurotype, all it took was one therapist who specializes in neurodivergence to see the signs. one. sometimes all it takes is one person to make the difference. don't give up if you think you are autistic and are struggling to get a diagnosis or just recognition for it. it doesn't mean you're wrong. the average allistic knows nothing about how autism actually presents itself, only what they know from media, memes and mean jokes. sometimes all it takes is meeting one person who knows what autism looks like.

don't give up. you know who you are.

[harrowing-of-hell]

i've been meaning to talk about the scene where cytherea's body shows up underneath harrow's bed, and the whole "is she actually there or not?" question, because many people seem convinced that ianthe was gaslighting harrow and i genuinely don't think she has any reason to do so. the scene itself is deliberately ambiguous for several reasons. the most obvious is that harrow hallucinates. she knows this. the audience knows this. this is precisely why she seeks out ianthe in the middle of the night, because harrow doesn't trust her own senses.

harrow also used bone to shackle cytherea's body to the floor— and yet her body somehow disappears from underneath the bed without breaking these shackles. initially, this would indicate cytherea's body is another hallucination.

however, we also know that there's something weird going on: for some unexplained reason, cytherea's body apparently doesn't trigger blood wards.

after cytherea's body goes missing, it also can't be detected by john or found anywhere on the mithraeum.

one possibility is that cytherea's body is negating magic somehow. her body is being necromantically preserved by john and thus her body is imbued with john's magic. that may be why wake can move around in it completely undetected by john himself, and also may be why she is able to bypass blood wards and other types of necromancy.

but again, no concrete answers are given, and any ideas or claims are just pure speculation. all we know is that cytherea's body has been able to do weird things and avoid detection, so it's not exactly unreasonable that, if she was underneath the bed, she may have been able to escape the the shackles somehow.

additionally, though i'm not at all inclined to believe this, we also can't rule out the possibility that both of these appearances of wake-in-cytherea's-body were hallucinations and the only time harrow really saw her was in the incinerator room when she was trying to kill g1deon.

at the end of HtN, gideon claims that cytherea's body was obviously there, but she isn't reliable because she only has access to harrow's memories. she would recall that situation as harrow did, meaning she would remember any hallucinations harrow was experiencing. unlike harrow herself, gideon doesn't doubt harrow's experiences, but harrow feels the need to confirm whether she's hallucinating when it's not already obvious to her that this is the case.

and then there's ianthe, who's behavior during this scene is weird:

ianthe says very little during this entire scene before leaving harrow's bedroom, and i think this is deliberate, only meant to make it more ambiguous as to whether the body under the bed is actually there or not.

but it's actually because of ianthe's behavior here that i believe that harrowhark seeing cytherea's body underneath the bed was an hallucination.

there are other times where ianthe comments on harrow's psychosis:

in both of these situations, she's not nice about it! in fact, ianthe takes the opportunity to insult harrow or question whether harrow's actually seeing the things that she's seeing.

importantly, her behavior in these two instances is very different from what she does when harrow tells her to look at cytherea's body underneath the bed and touch it. ianthe doesn't insult harrow at all or call her "crazycakes" or "mad", just asks if harrow's been sleeping, says good night, and walks away.

i think that this is because ianthe gets really uncomfortable whenever she's confronted with harrowhark being in undeniably vulnerable positions.

when she sees harrow bloody and naked after being attacked by g1deon, she brushes it off by essentially going "yikes", but the fact that she makes no attempt to help harrow recover from the attack and hastily walks away from the sight of harrow's maimed body is very telling.

her walking away is so unexpected that i've seen several people say that they're not sure why ianthe didn't take that as an opportunity to manipulate harrow (even harrow expected it to happen, and welcomed it). and yeah, from what we see of her character in HtN up until this scene, it does seem ooc for her to just walk away with nothing but a quippy comment.

but to understand her behavior i think it's important to note that ianthe does see harrow as an equal! at any given opportunity she brings up the similarities between herself and harrowhark. ianthe also does this because she's down bad, but regardless, she would never equivocate herself to someone who she thinks is lesser than her.

i also don't think she would do this if she didn't care about harrow— and she does care about harrow! she was genuinely happy to see harrow was alive before realizing that it wasn't harrow but gideon-in-harrow's-body. at the beginning of HtN she kneels before harrowhark in "unmistakable supplication" and looks at her with "half-beseeching, half-contemptuous despair" as she offers to help defend harrow's body once they go into the river to fight the RB.

ianthe has no reason to gaslight harrowhark for fun the night before the RB is supposed to attack. she incessantly taunts harrowhark with her impending death all throughout HtN, but she doesn't actually want harrowhark to die. gaslighting and destabilizing harrow further when harrow is already likely to die directly goes against this desire.

imo ianthe does enjoy having someone rely on her and is willing to be manipulative to achieve that, but i think she relied on harrow just as much as harrow relied on her. in HtN, harrow is very much filling the coronabeth shaped hole in ianthe's life and i don't think ianthe would risk losing that.

that's all to say, i think it's precisely because ianthe sees harrow as an equal and cares about her in her own fucked up way that, when faced with harrow's vulnerability, her immediate reaction is to brush it off and help harrow save face by walking away from the situation.

ianthe views vulnerability as a weakness and thus thinks she is doing harrow a favor by walking away from harrow in her times of weakness and making no further comment about it. it's like how many people react when they see a stranger crying it public; they would feel similarly embarrassed to be seen crying in a public space, so their way of helping that person is to ignore the fact that they're crying and prevent them from experiencing further embarrassement. she would want harrow to ignore her moments of weakness, and so in turn, she ignores harrow's moments of weakness.

in a way this is kinda how they show solidarity to each other in HtN; despite how they threaten each other with death, harrow defends ianthe when she's struggling to use her rapier arm, keeps ianthe's secrets, never explicitly mentions that ianthe cries at night to anyone (actually i think there are several scenes where harrow suspects ianthe has been crying, and she doesn't mention it aloud). in turn, ianthe thinks it best to not acknowledge or make it known that harrow experiences hallucinations. they know they're both in shit positions and aren't trying to deliberately make it worse for each other.

this is ultimately why i think ianthe wasn't lying when she said she didn't see cytherea's body; she not only has zero reason to do so outside of "for fun", but destabilizing harrowhark further would go against the fact that she wants harrow to survive the RB fight. ianthe's behavior when harrow asks her to look underneath the bed is also directly in line with the other occasion in which she has to interact with harrowhark in an extremely vulnerable moment: she seems incredibly dismissive of the situation, and then walks away.

[canichangemyblogname]

Actually, no. The shippers in the 911 fandom who primarily complain about Tommy and his past don't actually care about Tommy's past or his actions that contributed to the previous toxic workplace environment and harassment at the 118. Not everything is about a fucking ship, believe it or not, yet the only time they bring up his behavior is in relation to shipping. And because the only time they bring up a valid critique of Tommy's character is during shipping "discourse," I'm convinced it's not brought forth in good faith. Finding a way to tie everything to a ship—especially things like racism and misogyny—is cheap and tasteless. Not everything is about "shipping;" shut up about the shipping.

I don't think they actually want to discuss how white queers contribute to the marginalization of others, including other queer people, by weaponizing the patriarchy and/or white supremacy in their favor because so many of them are fellow white queers themselves. They don't care about how Tommy inadvertently, because of his past, provides a realistic portrayal of how white queers divide or hurt the larger community because of an inability to find solidarity with people of a different background, culture, or race (especially if it would "inconvenience" them or if it does not directly benefit them, like Chim saving Tommy's life). White people would rather choose misery and isolation over standing with or up for non-white people. White people are generally not willing to put in the work to build community; they'd rather contribute to the system or fly under the radar to avoid being shunned by the structures they, and the Ol' Boys Club, benefit from, like white supremacy or the patriarchy. Most white queers would rather be complaisant, complacent, and complicit. It's the white queer's adherence to oppressive systems that divide the community, not people's calls to tear those systems down. And it's only the white queer who can change their perspective on this.

Tommy only has himself to blame for his jealousy and alienation from a supportive and familial community, and only he can take the steps to ameliorate the situation. Tommy was an absolute fucking dick to Chim and Hen, and that has had long-term consequences on his life. Only he can correct for his behavior. He contributed to a toxic work environment, referring to Chim as a Chinese takeout delivery man, actively participating in Chim's hazing, and telling Chim that he did not like the man (mostly because he didn't know him). He would later call Hen "bitchy," and the men of the 118 would leave the "domestic work" to her as they did Chim, actively contributing to her hazing. He did not (verbally) stand up for her, iced her out, and also contributed to a homophobic work culture that made same-sex attraction the butt of jokes. He contributed to this toxic culture to fly under the radar, and that directly hurt people he should have extended a hand to.

Unfortunately for most of the fandom, this is, ultimately, a show that loves stories about redemption and resolution. And there is actual, explicit (meaning, non-subtextual) evidence that Tommy has put in some work to remedy what he did and who he was (including being able to 1.] own up to his past actions, 2.] understand how he hurt others, 3.] recognize why he did what he did and how that it is an explanation, not an excuse, and 4.] begin to make amends or rectify the situation, like reporting Gerrard and changing his mind about Hen and Chim). Hen and Chim would not have invited him for drinks regularly if they thought he was "irredeemable." The 118 would not have thrown him a going away party if they disliked him. Chim would not call in favors from Tommy on more than one occasion or even describe him as "so cool" if they weren't—well—cool. Eddie wouldn't enjoy ring-side fights and basketball games with Tommy if he didn't enjoy the man's company. Tommy also clearly refers to the type of man he was in the past tense, implying change over time. It can be argued that he has not put in enough work, but that's not what's being argued. We're getting bad faith arguments that Hen, Chim, and Eddie hate Tommy or bad faith arguments where Tommy's past actions are only brought forth as some sort of "gotcha" when a fan prefers canon representation over homophobic fan fiction tropes. You don't have to like Tommy, but making up non-textual reasons to dislike him is absurd.

Tommy, as a character in a narrative, provides a lesson for the general audience (GA), the majority of whom are white. It's not just important to see queer people on screen; it's important to see white people learn and change and admit they were wrong. It's also important that the show—well—shows the GA that whiteness and man-ness affect people's perception, position, and treatment. Tommy isn't just a gay man; he is a white gay man, and this has had a direct impact on how he navigates the world and how the world interacts with him. Gerrard treats men like Sal and Tommy differently than men like Chim or women like Hen, and staying in Gerrard's good graces—like the good graces of oppressive power structures—requires one to conform to a very narrow definition of a "real man," like being straight, white, palatable (like... not kinky, not risqué, not queer, all the things the fandom seems to actually hate Tommy for), and not helping oust regressive figures from positions of authority for the way they treat your coworkers. The audience got to see how Tommy went from being the prodigal son to being openly mocked by men like Gerrard. And it's important to show the GA that someone can and will be happier if they go against the grain and that admiration from men like Gerrard means very little in the grand scheme. Tommy is happier now after having been "rebuked" by men like Gerrard than he was when he strove for their praise and acceptance.

It's also important to show that men like Gerrard and his beliefs belong in the past, even though they exist in the present. This is a network TV show. A non-zero number of men like Gerrard catch this show weekly. It is still important to show that Gerrard is not the "type" of man anyone should aspire to be. His beliefs and actions are not commendable, and the show is very heavy-handed about this. The show is going to once again compare Gerrard ("bad captain") and Bobby ("good captain") to show how Bobby has created a good legacy at the 118. It began this parallel with Bobby Begins Again, continued to reinforce Bobby's good legacy in Buck's coma arc, and then revisited how Bobby has had a positive influence on the lives of the 118 in his season 7 montage. Now, the show is going to compare and contrast him and Gerrard to reinforce how important Bobby is to those around him. The show will also continue its inadvertent parallels between Buck and Tommy, showing how Buck is a different man under similar circumstances because he has had good influences (re: Bobby, Hen, and Chim) in his life. Buck and Eddie's relationship was shaping up to be very similar to Tommy and Chim's relationship: oppositional because of one-sided disregard and dislike, but it didn't because they had a good influence: Bobby (given the rather... fucked timeline, Tommy was likely newer to the 118 when Chim joined and, like Buck, his hostility and posturing were also likely influenced by insecurity and a desire to secure his position at the table).

Most unfortunately for many, the show is also going to show how Tommy has changed due to the same influences (re: Bobby, Hen, and Chim). They wouldn't have re-introduced both Tommy and Gerrard and mentioned their dynamic on more than one occasion if they weren't going to do something with that. Season 7 set up Tommy's upcoming arc very nicely. He knows the man he was, he knows the man who shaped him into that, and he knows how and why that was wrong. We'll get Tommy confronting his obvious daddy issues, jealousy, and desire for community (and why he didn't get a family-like dynamic at the 118, re: Gerrard *and* Tommy's own behavior). Tommy has been explicit about this, literally telling Buck that he envies the relationship the people at the 118 have and mentioning that he was not a good person, and this played a part in why he didn't have the same rapport.

9-1-1 is not a perfect show, but it does reflect some of the positive changes of our time. It's important to see representations of comp-het—like Buck, Tommy, and Michael—and how it negatively impacts people's character or relationships, and then how they—the character—can amend that. It's important to see stories that depict how silence is complicity and how refusing to be silent—as Hen refused to be—makes change and changes minds. It's important that the show reminds the audience that Hen is a black lesbian and that this has impacted how people see her and treat her, but that she is just as capable, if not more so. This includes men like Chim. Because I see nearly none of the people who "critique" Tommy in the name of "shipping" ever bring up how Chim has leaned on the patriarchy for support and a position at the table. He may have been the kindest to Hen, but he was by no means normal about women. And it is important to see how non-white men benefit from the patriarchy even as they are victimized by white supremacy. It's also important that the show shows the GA that non-white men are not affected by white supremacy equally, as Michael and Harry have had discussions about blackness and police brutality, a conversation that Chim is never going to have to have with his children, but that doesn't mean that Chim won't have to one day have a discussion with Jee-Yun about how and why some people treat her differently.

But the fandom approaches everything in a very... Catholic way. They don't approach this from the view that people can change and should be pushed to change; rather, they shun people like they've been marked by original sin. The structures we live under have deeply affected each and every one of our worldviews. "You are not immune to the propaganda" includes your personal philosophies and ideologies as well as the things you were taught since you were a child, consciously and "subconsciously." But, people would rather condemn everyone else as "irredeemable" than look critically at their own behavior out of fear of being "one of the bad ones." They'd rather *not* accept the fact that everyone has learning and changing to do as that would reflect upon them, too. This leads to being very resistant to being told that you're mistaken, you've hurt others, or that your behavior and beliefs contribute to repressive, dangerous, or toxic ideas (and we've seen a lot of that; y'all do not create safe online spaces). This leads to a lack of personal change as well as a lack of change at the interpersonal level because rather than teach or challenge, they stick up their nose and turn the other way. "Their barbaric bigotry; my enlightened neglect."

So, really, they've learned nothing from a character like Tommy.

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[echoofadream]

sub!Geto Suguru x fem!dom!reader

This is my first fanfiction so i don't know if it turned out to be what you wanted. It took very long to write and it was a tough process because I tried to make Geto's behavior as canonically accurate as I could. I also got carried away and kinda invented a plot and an OC? Not entirely sure, but I wanted to give the reader a name so your name in this one is Terumi Rei. If you like it and want me to make her an OC and give her a story and more depth please tell me! I hope you'll like it!

Synopsis: you're Geto's money-collecting monkey and one day you stop paying him so, instead of coming to kill you, he puts a curse on you. When you've had enough of both his curse and the fact that he wasn't coming to you, you go to his temple yourself.

Contains: smut, femdom!reader (woman, lady, miss, mommy), dub-con (??), masturbation (m!), oral (m! giving), p in v, cowgirl, unprotected sex, creampie, bondage?(hands tied with a belt), overstimulation, degradation, begging, mentions of murder (please tell me if I forgot to add anything else)

Being the CEO of one of the most known businesses in Japan had its perks...and its downsides. One of them were the disturbing dreams you've been having lately as a result of a certain man's bank account being, well, emptier than it should. Were you afraid? No. Were you mad? Extremely. You've slept three hours this week and it was Friday afternoon. You were stressed and tired and angry. So you did the most logical thing you could and that was paying him a visit.

The sound of your heels on the floors of the temple echoed as you made your way to his office. At some point you were, of course, stopped.

"May I help you, miss?"

In front of you stood a man. He was a foreigner, that much you could tell from the color of his skin and his poor accent. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in your outfit. A white dress shirt with a black vest on top, a tie around your neck and wide leg trousers. High heels matching the belt and the purse, and gold bracelets around your wrists, as well as manicured nails.

"You're rich, aren't you?" he asked with a smirk on his face. He wasn't looking you in the eyes right now, but you could tell that he had already figured out the reason you were there. He kept eyeing a certain spot behind you, the same grin on his face.

"I'm here to see your boss. I don't have time for your stupid questions. Let me pass" you say, your face more angered than expressionless, your tone more assertive than it should've been in the presence of a man who could kill you without breaking a sweat.

"You have a big mouth, lady. You should keep it shut more often" he says, becoming serious and looking into your eyes again, leaving alone the "inexistent" thing behind you.

"And you should let me pass. You wouldn't have half the stuff you have if it weren't for my money. Move"

He frowns but doesn't get to say anything more as the door behind him opens and a man wearing buddhist robes approaches the two of you, a close-eyed smile on his face. You cross your arms in front of you. He looked so careless. His face seemed relaxed, his body language wasn't threatening and he actually seemed in a good mood.

"Good afternoon, miss Terumi" he says, his tone gentle, as though he was happy to see you. "What do I owe the visit?"

You don't answer, instead you keep giving him the same ugly look which was contrasting his joyful expression. He sighs. "We shall talk inside my office then"

He starts walking towards the room he just exited and you follow him, annoyed at his demeanor. Once you closed the door you turned around to face him. In the meantime he had already made himself comfortable, sitting on his low pedestal, legs spread and elbow on his arm rest. This man was laying on the mat on the floor and he called this chamber an office. The fact that he lived in this world, so much more different than yours made you want to punch his smile off his face.

"What's behind me, Geto?" you ask, trying not to yell at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, miss. Though you look awful. Do you get enough sleep?" He faked his concern for you and that only annoyed you more.

"I would if I didn't have that thing haunting me" you say, lifting your right arm and pointing with your thumb behind yourself. Geto chuckles.

"It's on your left side" he says, visibly amused.

"I'd prefer it if it wasn't at all"

"Then pay me, miss Terumi" he says, smiling at you innocently as though putting a curse on you for not paying him was the morally right thing to do. In his mind it actually was.

You step closer to him, slightly struggling to walk over the tatami mats on the floor, since your heels were digging into the material. "I paid you 10 million yen last month. I'm in the middle of signing a contract and I can't afford to spend more money. I'm not giving you any"

His face darkens. "I suppose you don't value your life then" he says. The tension in the room begins to grow. There were only the two of you there, but it felt as though his piercing purple eyes weren't the only ones staring at you with ill meaning. Despite the heavy pressure you felt on your shoulders, you took a step closer to him. His eyes narrow and his mouth shapes in a disgusted manner, as though he just tasted something horrible.

"Don't come any closer, monkey!" he orders, his normally soft and gentle voice filled with disdain. 

"You're utterly stupid, Geto"

His eyes open wide and he gets up from his seat, raising his voice. "What did you just say to me?!"

"You're deaf too?"

"You..." he starts, clenching his fists.

"I'd be dead by now if you wanted to kill me" you say, a smirk forming on your face. "Why am I breathing? I'm not giving you any money yet I'm still standing. Why?"

"Don't force my hand, monkey!"

"Firstly, I'm a public figure. If I disappear the police won't rest till they find me-"

"And you think I give a fuck?!"

You sigh. "Of course you don't. Why am I giving this monologue anyway? I'll be frank. I got fed up with your death threats. Give you money or I die. I'm done, Geto. I'm done with this. If you want my money you're gonna give me something in return"

He bursts out laughing, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Me? Give something...to you? Woman, you're alive because I allow it"

"And your girls have nice clothes because I gave you the money"

"Don't bring them into this!" the man snaps, pointing his fingers at you. "I have other means to get money. You're not special"

You stand there without saying anything. The smirk doesn't leave your face, and you cross your arms in front of you, as though you were waiting for a little boy to finish throwing his tantrum.

"I'm going to kill you"

"You don't sound convinced"

"I swear you monkeys are getting more and more stupid by the day! Do I have to say it more slowly so you could follow? I. Will. Kill. You. So give me the damn money if you want to leave unharmed"

You chuckle at his frustrated state, a hand going to cover your mouth. "Have I ever told you how handsome you are?" you ask.

"How the fuck is that relevant?" He raises an eyebrow and his body loosens up. As much as he wanted to believe he was a superior being, he was nothing but a human. And like all humans he lowered his guard the moment he was complimented.

"Answer my question" you tell him, one of your hands going to your neck and loosening the tie.

He scoffs. "No, you've never told me before. But I know I'm handsome. I don't need some monkey's validation to sleep well at night. Though you kinda need to please me if you want to sleep well at night"

You took a step forward, getting closer to him. Geto had made it very clear that he wanted you to keep the distance so he took a step back and tripped over the edge of his pedestal. He fell on the floor. The next sounds he heard were your laughter and his heart beat in his ears as he felt his face getting warmer.

He looked away and tried to get up, but the moment he placed his hand on the floor to lift himself you stepped on it with your heel. "What the fuck, woman!" he snaps.

Instead of answering, you crouch in front of him, one knee in between his legs and the other next to his thigh. He sighed in relief when you lifted your foot off his hand and he quickly brought it closer to his body, rubbing it with his other hand. When he lifted his gaze he was met with yours.

"You're beautiful, Suguru"

He gulps and his cheeks flush red. This was too easy.

"Get away from me..." he says, uncertainty palpable in his voice.

"The reason I stopped sending you money is the same reason for which you cursed me instead of killing me" you say, lifting your hand to try and touch his face.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Even though he sounded threatening this time, his red cheeks were telling a whole different story. For god's sake, he could push you off him. He could kill you right then and there. If he wanted.

You lean in, your face getting closer to his. When he shivered from your breath too close to his skin, you whispered in his ear. "We both want the same thing from each other and you know it"

"Fuck you..." he said, his voice barely audible but still full of hatred.

"Poor choice of words, Suguru"

"Don't call me tha-ahh!" He lets out a moan when your lips make contact with his neck, kissing it affectionately. "Fuck..."

"Be patient, Suguru. I'll fuck you soon"

"That's not wha-ahh I...wanted t-ahh...fu-..." Louder and sluttier sounds came out of his mouth as you started to lick his neck and gently bite on his skin. He grabbed your shoulder, but instead of pushing you away, he dug his fingers into it. If you looked more closely you could see that his arms were trebling as his whole body was squirming under your touch.

"Geto-sama, is everything fine?" He freezes when he hears Miguel's voice from the other side of the door. You chuckle and slide his robes off his shoulders.

"Mhm...ye-ah I'm...I'm fine! Everything's fine!" he answers, trying to make his voice seem as steady as possible.

"You're cute, Suguru" you compliment him, pulling away from his neck and caressing his cheek.

"Don't call me by my first name, you filthy monkey!" he snaps at you, voice full of spite.

"I suggest you keep quiet already" you tell him. Your face was serious now, no longer playing around. "You don't want them to hear you, do you?"

He frowns and looks away from you. He hated this. Not your touch, god forbid! He hated not knowing what he felt. He always thought that all non-sorcerers were inferior creatures, good only for giving him money and curses. Yet here you were, the money-collecting monkey. He shouldn't have gotten in this situation. You stopped paying him so he should've straight up come for you and give you the ultimatum and kill you once you refused to keep giving him money. But he couldn't bring himself to do it for some reason.

You grab his chin and force him to face you. His cheeks reddened once again at your gesture. "Keep quiet, will you?"

"Fuck you!" Wasn't he so stubborn? Wasn't he so cute when he insulted you trying to convince himself that he didn't crave the touch of a monkey.

You get up and take a few steps back, but before you realize his hand grabs your arm. He was looking away, gaze fixed on the floor. He sighed. "Don't go..."

You laugh and get closer once more. "Are you gonna be quiet?" you ask again and he nods. You kept smirking as you slid his robes all the way down and threw them on the floor behind you. You start moving your hands along his bare torso, groping him here and there.

"Will you stop playing around already?" he asks, not trying to hide his irritation.

"If you learn how to respect me then I might give you what you want" you reply in the same tone as him.

Suguru scoffs. "I'll never respect you"

"Then I won't fuck you"

He bites his lower lip in frustration. Why was it so fucking hard? "Sorry..." he mumbles.

"What was that?"

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't hear me" he replies annoyed.

You chuckle. "I'm just messing with you. I never thought you'd be so sensitive, Suguru"

"Just touch me already..." That was it. He finally said it. But, to his surprise, you didn't do it. He sighed. "Please...touch me..."

"That's better"

You push him on the floor, making him lay flat on his back. You stood up and started unbuckling your belt and taking off your pants in a hurry. Holding yourself back from taking him has been so difficult till now. You couldn't wait to finally have him.

When your pants were off you saw him rubbing his thighs together as he watched you undress. "What?" you ask.

"Nothing..." He looked away, as though if he didn't see you he'd also disappear from your line of sight. That was cute.

You grabbed the hem of your panties and slid them down your legs, finally taking them off and throwing them on the pile of clothes on the floor where they joined his robe and your trousers. You place your thighs on either side of his head and grab him by the hair so that he'll look where you wanted him to. Yet he kept his eyes closed.

"I won't sit on your face if you don't look at my pussy" you tell him.

He shakes his head. "No...this is humiliating. I don't wanna...I mean I want it but...I don't wanna see you do that."

"Too bad I'm not negotiating with you. Now open your damn eyes before I open them for you"

And he did. You saw small tears in the corner of his eyes as he looked at the sight before him. Your dripping pussy was on display above him, offering him the view of your arousal, showing him how badly you wanted him. His tears slide down his face and get his hair wet. "You look..." he starts, but suddenly stops himself.

"How do I look, Suguru?"

"Better than I've ever pictured you inside my head..." he replies, almost breathlessly. You smirk, thinking about what other fantasies this man probably had of you. But you had something more important to do right now so you saved that thought for later.

"Wanna eat my pussy?"

He bites his lip. God was this humiliating. He nods and opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out. You don't waste any more time and lower your hips on his face. As soon as he felt you against his mouth he grabbed your thighs and started licking your folds, letting out soft moans and whimpers. You grabbed the wall in front of you, pulling on one of the signs attached to it and knocking it down.

"Fuck..." you cursed as you started grinding on his face. His tongue was doing god's work on your deprived clit. That was the least he could do for making you wait that long. "God...keep going mhm~...yeah, like that...fffuuuckk~ just like that!"

You felt his right hand leave your thigh and a couple of seconds later his sounds got louder. You looked behind you and saw his pants pulled down to his knees, his hand stroking his cock. "Oh my god..." He looked better than you've ever imagined. Lengthy veiny shaft, fat red tip leaking precum. It looked like it would hit all the right spots inside you. And you couldn't wait to use it like a dildo to get off while looking at this perfect man.

You got off his face, but his hand gripped your thigh harder, trying to hold you in place. "D-don't...'m not done..." He looked so fucked up. His hair was sweaty and he was panting like a dog. His tongue was stuck out and his mouth and chin were covered in your essence. What a sight he was.

"I'm gonna fuck you, Suguru. You want that?"

"Yes..."

"You need to learn to be more polite, darling" you tease.

"I won't be polite to you, monkey. Now sit on my fucking cock. I need it. Come on" He pushes you away from him, trying to make you do what he said. You sigh and get up, heading to the pile of clothes. You hated him with a passion but you were getting that cock one way or another and you heard the word "monkey" too many times today. Your sleep deprived brain wasn't gonna make it till evening if he kept saying it. You grabbed your panties and belt and returned to the man. He was laying on the floor like a fucking whore, ready for you to take him, legs spread and arms above his head and all that. You grabbed his wrists and wrapped the belt around them.

"Hey, what do you think you're do-" You shoved your panties inside his mouth then got on top of him again, positioning the tip of his dick against your entrance. You rubbed it along your clit a little, sighing contently as Suguru was squirming underneath you and thrusting his hips upwards.

"So impatient, Suguru..." you say, a big smile on your face now that you finally silenced him. Without any warning you lowered yourself on his cock, earning a high pitched moan from the man underneath you. Suguru threw his head back and started thrusting into you like a bitch in heat. Even if you were one hundred percent right and his cock was indeed filling you up perfectly, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl, you were still fed up with his attitude.

You leaned over him and took one of his nipples into your mouth and bit it hard, twisting the other between your fingers equally as painfully. It didn't give you the expected result. Instead of stopping his movements, he let out a scream so loud you could swear even the people outside his temple heard it. He raised his hips, lifting your whole body off the floor as he kept them still. And you felt something warm inside you.

You didn't even have time to realize that he just came from that, nor did you get to catch your breath when the voice of a young girl called out from outside the door.

"Geto-sama! What's taking you so long? You said we'd go to the aquarium!"

Both yours and Suguru's eyes widened in surprise. He let his ass fall back on the floor and you covered your mouth so you wouldn't moan when his cock hit your g-spot so fucking hard. You hurried to take the panties out of his mouth so he could answer the girl's question.

"I'm a little busy, dear" he answered, his voice hoarse. He coughed a little then spoke again. "We'll go! I have to finish...some paperwork...forgive me for making you wait"

How did he sound so calm while talking to his girl? You sighed. It was fucking Geto Suguru. You knew why.

"How many times have you been fucked in here, Geto?" you ask as soon as the girl's steps fade into the distance.

"So I'm not Suguru anymore, huh?" he asks, a smug grin on his face.

You frown. "Do you want me to put them back in that smart mouth of yours?"

"Maybe I do..."

You start riding him again all of a sudden, sending shocks of pleasure through his entire body as overstimulation starts taking over him. "Mhm... ngh-ahh... Ahh" he started moaning like a slut again. You wouldn't let him get away so soon. He needed to be taught a lesson. You were gonna fuck him like you hated him so he would learn never to disrespect you again.

"Nhgh-...ahh sensitive...ohh f-fuck...!"

"What? What is it, you slut? How many people have fucked you in here, huh? Answer!"

He shook his head as tears started to form in the corners of his eyes. God he was so pretty. The way he looked like such a slut, hair messy, toned body covered him sweat, your dry cum still on his face...

"I'll stop" you threaten him, "I'll stop if you don't tell me how many have fucked y-"

"No no n-ah ahh no NO! Don't f-ahh stop! Many...ngh-ahh many...!" he cried.

The sounds of skin against skin, the wet sound your pussy was making as you were sliding up and down his abused cock, his whorish moans and cries as another orgasm took over his entire being were the only noises present in the room. Your combined cum was sliding down his legs, wet spots already formed on the tatami mats underneath your bodies.

"Oh ahh~...f-ahh...ngh-ahh" he started sobbing, fat tears running down his pretty cheeks. The way his cock twitched inside you after the second high, hitting all the right spots as you used it to get off only contributed to the orgasm that was approaching you rapidly.

"I'm gonna cum, bitch" you tell him. "Gonna cum using you like all the other people you called over did" Your hand goes down and you start rubbing your clit, feeling your high engulfing your entire body.

It was hard to keep going right after but you still did. You had to punish this man for all the things he did and said to you. So you kept bouncing on that divine cock of his as cum was gathering in between the two of you and making everything so wet and lewd and dirty.

"I'm gonna make you cum till you forget your own name, whore!" you try to yell at him, but your words have been coming out as only moans and whimpers for the last ten minutes. Suguru kept sobbing underneath you. His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open, slutty whimpers and moans constantly coming out as his voice was getting more and more hoarse.

"Mhm~...ahh slower...f-ahh gon-...cum...hurts....slower...monkey"

You stopped. Your eyes were wide and you could feel the ager his words caused start flooding your body. "What did you just call me?!" you snap at him, feeling a strong desire to punch him in the face right then and there.

He looked at you and whimpered, moving his tied arms frantically. Tears were still streaming down his face as he looked at you with pleading eyes and a hurt expression.

"Mommy...I said mommy...you misheard me, I said mommy!" he whimpers.

You smirk and cover your face as you try not to burst into laughter. God he was so shameless when he wanted pussy, it was almost unbelievable.

"You wanna cum, Geto?" you ask him. Your mind was so tired you weren't even aware of half the things you were telling him.

"No!" he yells. "Not Geto, Suguru...Suguru, mommy...!"

You look at him dumbfounded and it takes a while to realize why he was saying his name. When you did you chuckled. "Yeah...you're right. Suguru. My Suguru. You get it?"

He nods rapidly. "Yes, yes, yes, yours. Wanna cum. Wanna cum, pretty please"

You smirk and start going up and down again, throwing your head back at the feeling of his fat tip harassing your sweet spot.

"Ngh-ahh thank you! Thank ahh-...ahh ngh-... thank you!" he whimpers, his third orgasm getting closer each time your soft walls squeezed his cock.

You weren't in a much better state yourself. Sweat was dripping down your face and body, the shirt you never took off so drenched it became see through. Your hand hurries to your clit to rub circles around it so you could feel that wave of pleasure engulf you once more.

"C-cum...! gon-ahh cum...!" Suguru sobbed.

"Cum whore! Fu-" you don't get to finish your sentence as you feel him shoot his warm cum inside your cunt. The feeling pushed you over the edge, making both of you cum at the same time.

You collapse on top of him and close your eyes. The sleepless nights and the intensity of what the two of you just did made you barely able to think, let alone get off him.

"Off!" he whimpers. "Off, off, off! Hurts! Please!"

His voice gets you out of your dizziness and you get off him, his cock slipping out of you so easily and making both of you whine. You lay on the floor next to him, both of you panting, the sweat on your bodies making you stick to each other. You tried your best not to fall asleep but you failed miserably. You were scared that he'd do something bad to you while you were sleeping. You needed to stay awake.

"Miss Terumi..." he starts but when he turns his head towards you he sees that you're already asleep. "I'm sorry..."

Tags: @megumisdivinedogs , @eclecticfirewitch , @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd , @memi067

[r-is-typing]

the music teacher | s.r

summary: in which spencer finds love in an unlikely place

requested?: yes! by anonymous!

pairing: professor!spencer reid x professor fem!reader

category:

content warnings: none!

If you knew Spencer Reid, you knew he loved to ramble. So, of course, the thing that made sense for him to do during his required thirty days off from the BAU was just that; rambling, well, teaching.

Emily Prentiss, the BAU’s Unit Chief, had came up with the idea for him to teach seminars on any topic under their profession that Reid sees fit, thanks to the Spencer’s reinstatement conditions that for every one-hundred days he worked in the field and for the BAU, he’d take thirty days off.

So, there he stood, in front of a class of about fourty-five people on a Tuesday morning, beginning his first lesson. “A trigger,” he begins. “is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behaviors.” He animatedly talked with his hands, looking at the class.

“Where as, a stressor is a longer-term pattern of behavior or circumstances which push,” Spencer thrusts his hand up in the air. “a person into behaving differently than they normally would.”

Spencer notices now that no one in the class was writing anything, so he adds one last quip. “You’re probably gonna want to write this down.” He suggests awkwardly.

“I shouldn’t be telling you guys this, but I’m definitely putting this on the final.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Y/N, another professor at the University, stands in the back of the class by the door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed in a polite, sophisticated manner.

She had snuck in sometime between the conversation of modus operandi (more commonly known as M.O.) and Spencer discussing the differences in pattern between female serial killers and male serial killers.

"I'm only auditing this class." Y/N watches a girl tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, looking up at the tall professor. She watches as Spencer's brow furrows, looking around the room.

"Is anyone else auditing this class?"

Y/N sees a sea of women's hands, and even a few men's hands raise at his question. She softly chuckles under her breath. Spencer nervously checks his watch. "U-uh, unfortunately that's all the time we have for today. Thank you., guys."

People pass her, nodding as they leave the classroom, recognizing her as another professor on campus. She moves slowly, making her way to the front of the room, watching the man gather white papers and manila folders into his satchel.

"That was a really interesting lesson today."

Spencer's eyes dart up. "Oh, uh, thank you. A-are you a student?" He frowns. "I don't think I saw you." Y/N softly laughs, shaking her head. "No, no. I'm a professor here. I teach music, actually." She smiles at him.

"Music, but an interest in Criminology?"

"Well, I actually have an undergrad in Criminology."

This peaks Spencer's interest. Y/N nervously laughs. "I know, it's probably weird, but I find it fascinating. I've actually sat in on one of the BAU's lectures a few years back. Well, probably about six years ago now?" She shrugs.

"Your team had come to my college, my undergrad class actually, and spoke about profiling. Kind of the same stuff today, but more.. in depth?" Y/N smiles shyly.

"Oh, the Tommy Yates case!"

Y/N nods. "That would be the one. I'm surprised you remember." Now, Spencer smiles shyly. "I actually have an eidetic memory, so it's hard to forget."

"Wait, so.. if that was your undergrad only six years ago, and you're a professor now, you must be really young, unless, of course you started college later!" Y/N shakes her head.

"I just turned thirty."

Spencer nods. "That's very impressive for your age." He says, but she rolls her eyes, knowing he's done more impressive things at a much younger age.

The two converse until the bell rings, signaling another class coming in to learn from the FBI's resident genius. Y/N makes sure to get his number, excited to have made a new friend as most of the professors at the university were old or just plain rude.

A few months go by, and they're closer than ever. Spencer was reinstated within the FBI, but had asked Emily, for his own mental state if he could still teach as often as he did before the reinstatement.

What he didn't tell her though was that he did it so he could see her every day. He didn't think Emily would understand what it felt like; the things he felt for her. The mornings where the two would meet for coffee in her classroom, followed by lunch in his perspective class, and then on some nights, they'd even spend time together and hang out after classes would end and everyone would go either home or to their dormitories.

On one particular Friday night, the BAU had just gotten back from a case, and wanted a wind down. So, in true Penelope Garcia fashion, she suggested going to a bar. Of course, the idea was met with high praise, even surprisingly from the 'good doctor' himself, as Garcia deemed him.

So, there they were, sitting in a corner of the bar, having drinks, eating bar food, and laughing. Across the bar, Luke eyes a group of women. "You stare anymore, your eyes are going to fall off." Tara quips with a smirk. Luke flips her off, sending a glare her way.

"C'mon, you don't think they're good looking?"

Tara shrugs, Emily stays silent but watches, Rossi puts his hands up in innocence, JJ and Garcia laugh, and Spencer, his face turns white as a ghost.

His eyes lock onto a familiar person. Y/N stood with the group of women, throwing her head back in laughter as she clasped a drink in her hand. Spencer watched as she took small sips, slightly wincing. He assumed from the alcohol.

Y/N wore a tight dress that had accentuated her features, making Spencer's mouth go dry. "You okay there, Spence?" JJ chuckled, seeing her best friend go what Emily had liked to call 'just like that; an IQ of 187 slashed to 60'.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine."

His coworkers shared looks, knowing him well enough to know that what he said was far from the truth. They eye the group of women and watch for a moment.

As if Y/N could sense eyes on her, she looks up and to the right. Her movements stop, seeing the familiar face of her friend (and the guy she had become enamored with) in a booth on the other side of the crowded bar.

Y/N loudly excuses herself so her friends could hear, beginning her walk to the other side of the bar. "Hey, you." She says as she approaches. "I thought you don't drink, much less at a bar." Y/N raises her brow as Spencer looks up at her with a shy smile.

"I don't normally."

Y/N chuckles, sipping her drink. "Who's this?" The antsy, excited voice of Penelope Garcia spoke up. "Oh, right." Spencer laughs, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "Y/N L/N, meet my team. Guys, this is Y/N, her and I work together at the university I lecture at. She's a music professor."

"It's nice to meet you all, I've heard so much about you."

"I wish we could say the same."

Spencer looks between his newer friend and his team with a little guilt. "Well, now you've met." He chuckles nervously. He feels a hand on his shoulder and feels his face heating up. "Don't feel bad, Spencer, I know your team is very busy."

Y/N smiles at him as the two lock eyes. "Listen, this may very well be the wrong time to do this, but drinking makes me very... honest." She laughs nervously. Spencer eyes her, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Do you want to go out with me next Saturday?"

Spencer chokes on his saliva, staring up at the woman. She frowns slightly, afraid she had said something wrong, or worse, thought there was something there when there wasn't. So, to save face, she started to speak. "I-If you don't want to, I totally get it, I just-"

"I've been trying to ask you that since I met you!"

r is typing...

hi! i hope you all enjoyed :) sorry this took so long, i've been really busy and just came back from visiting family. in a few days, i'll actually be leaving again so fics may be sporaddic but please please please, keep requesting! i love writing for you all <3

anyways, thank you to anon for the request!

r is signing off...

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Keep hearing people say maribug keep asking adricat if he's ok and he keep saying he's ok instead of telling her his problem but I don't remember it happened more than once in s4 in Rockettear but even then the circumstances of that episode did warrant the "nothing" answer he gave her unless he want to tell her that "nino tell me you let nino and alya know each other identity" which will reveal adricat identity. So when else did she ask? about the thing in hack-san, I think another credit goes to alya since she's the one who bring the topic to maribug who seems to be blissfully unaware that her leaving without telling adeicat that she send subtitute would be a problem.

I didn't get into this side of things in my other post because it was long and I wanted to focus on why Chat Noir's behavior was so frustrating, but this ask brings up the other big reason why the season four conflict was such a frustrating and terribly written plot line. Specifically, the part of your ask where you point out that Maribug seems blissfully unaware that her actions are having a negative impact on Chat Noir until someone points it out to her.

Yes, she is presented as blissfully unaware of this and every other interpersonal conflict we're given in season four. Your ask treats this as a failing on Maribug's part as if she should have obviously realized that she was in the wrong, but that's the whole problem. Telling kids - telling anyone really - that they should just magically know what others need is a frankly terrible life lesson as that's just not how the world works. You cannot just assume that everyone will have the same view of the world as you do and instantly pick up on the same issues as you do. That is the path to easily avoidable frustration and conflict. It also teaches people to assume that their view of the world is inherently correct when that is rarely the case. We often don't know the whole story and the other person's point of view may end up being equally or even more valid. This issue is extremely present in season four as Marinette has legitimate reasons to behave the way she does, which I'll get into in a bit.

If Marinette were written as feeling guilty about how she was treating Chat Noir, then this would be a different story. She'd be way more in the wrong and would shoulder a much greater portion of the blame. But as is? She has no idea that she's doing anything wrong. And until someone takes the time to tell her that her actions are causing harm, she is going to continue causing harm because she has no idea that she's causing harm.

In fact, I'd argue that the Alya thing in Hack San is a point in Maribug's favor. Throughout the episode, we see Marinette sending Alya messages on ways to be a good partner to Chat Noir, proving that she does in fact care about him. And then, as soon as Alya says, "You need to talk to Chat Noir," what does Maribug do?

She goes and talks to Chat Noir, giving him a pretty good apology for the problem she now knows she caused. Because, shockingly, Maribug doesn't actually want to hurt her partner. She also clearly cares about his feelings, making me want to take the season four conflict and tear it into itty bitty pieces because what is the conflict even supposed to be when you write shit like this?

I want to briefly step away from Miraculous and talk about this issue in a broader context via this YouTube short:

This short is from a Vietnamese woman who moved to Germany. Her YouTube channel is about her experiences there, including things like the short above which goes into the differences between what it means to be a dinner guest in Vietnam and what it means to be a dinner guest in Germany. In Vietnam, it's apparently standard for the guests to cook dinner with you where as, in Germany, you're expected to have the meal ready when the guests arrive, making this a situation where it's super easy to come across as rude just by doing what you think is normal.

Society is relatively aware that these types of culture clashes are a thing, but you don't have to be from different cultures to have these types of situations. Every person has their own unique needs and ideas of what "normal" is. The culture they were raised in will affect this, but so will their family, their personal needs, and many other factors. Two people can be raised on the same street and wind up with wildly different world views even though they supposedly share a culture. This is extra true when you add in compounding factors like neurodiversity, which is why it's an exercise in futility to say, "But Maribug should have realized..."

Well, she clearly didn't. And you can't change that she didn't realize whatever you're mad about. All you can do is have someone tell her what she's doing wrong. If she then continues the behavior, go ahead and judge away. But if she immediately corrects it like she did in Hack San? Doesn't that just prove that she truly didn't know that Chat Noir was hurting and would have probably fixed all of his problems if someone just pointed them out to her?

This is only exacerbated by the fact that Marinette's behavior in season four is largely unchanged from her behavior in previous seasons. The only major change is that she revealed her identity to Alya, but as soon as that's pointed out as a problem, she course corrects with an apology. After that, she thinks that everything is okay because why wouldn't she? Chat Noir said it was fine and everything else has been business as usual.

Bringing temp heroes into help as needed? That's been going on since season two. Having these additional members has been vital in multiple battles and there have been plenty of times where Chat Noir took a background role to the temp hero of the day like in Sapotis, Rena Rouge's season two debut. So why would Maribug suddenly think that this dynamic is a problem when it's been working fine for so long? We even had a whole episode about how Chat Noir was still needed in spite of the new heroes back in season three! Or, at least, I think that was Desperada's message? This show is shockingly bad at giving clear lessons.

Keeping guardian knowledge from Chat Noir? That's also been going on since season two and was even treated as a conflict that supposedly got resolved in the episode Syren which was the episode that ended with Master Fu coming to the mansion to talk to Adrien after everything was over.

When I watched that episode, I assumed this meant that Chat Noir was going to be more involved in things like picking the temp heroes. I actually thought this was how we were going to get Queen Bee because I knew she was going to be a thing, but it made no sense for Marinette to pick Chloe for a miraculous. Of course, I was wrong. Nothing changed after Syren. Chat Noir remained nothing more than the comic relief while Ladybug got all the insider info.

To be clear, I think that was a terrible move writing wise, but it doesn't change the fact that this is what they went with. This is the established dynamic. I can't even say that Alya learning Marinette's secret led to something new. She's just taken Marinette's old role while Marinette has taken on Master Fu's old role. This show loves it's status quo and Chat Noir has been at least tolerant of that status quo since Syren, so it's not surprising that Maribug doesn't register that this is a thing that should change and no one bothers to point it out to her even though she has a mentor in Tikki (and Su Han, I guess?) and a confidant in Alya and a whole slew of Kwamis who could also provide insight if they were allowed to do that sort of thing. (Sass and Wayzz were robbed of mentor roles.) Additional blame goes to Plagg because he should absolutely have told Adrien to talk to Ladybug. What is the point of giving these characters mentors who never mentor? It's aggravating in the extreme.

To circle back to the first part of your ask, outside of Hack San and Rocketear, I don't think there are any times when Ladybug invites feedback from Chat Noir unless you want to give credit to the end of Kuro Neko:

Cat Noir: (lands next to her) I've been a really temperamental kitty, m'lady. I didn't realize how much trouble I'd make for you by giving back my Miraculous. Ladybug: (sits closer to him) Just because I don't need you all the time doesn't mean that I don't need you at all, Cat Noir. No one could ever replace you.

Which isn't Maribug inviting him to tell her what's up, but she is clearly willing to listen to him and reassure him, further backing up my point about this conflict being some of the worst writing I've ever had to suffer through. If Maribug always fixes the issue as soon as she learns about it, you are not writing a situation where she's clearly in the wrong. You are writing an easily solved communication issue where she gets blamed for something she clearly doesn't realize she's doing wrong and it is so frustrating!!! I feel so bad for her. The next episode is Penalteam, btw, which starts the battle with this gem:

Ladybug: (laughs) Nice scare tactics, but it's not gonna work. Cat Noir and I are the best at soccer! Cat Noir: (Whispers to Ladybug) I don't know a thing about soccer M'lady. Maybe it's time to call the real team?

And basically just spends the whole episode making Chat Noir seems like a worthless partner while Maribug tries her best to make him - and everyone else - feel special.

Oh, and the episode before Kuro Neko? Well, it's technically Ephemeral, but that got magically overwritten so let's go one further back and we get to Dearest Family, which ends with this:

Cat Noir: (grabs a golden paper crown on the coffee table) Since I'm the king, (wears the crown on his head) would you be my queen, Ladybug? Ladybug: With pleasure, kitty cat! Tradition is tradition!

Oh yes, these two are in such conflict and Maribug does nothing to validate Chat Noir. He's in pain every episode and she's just totally oblivious to it.

If that was what they wrote, then I'd probably agree that we needed more instances of her asking if Chat Noir was okay. But it's not what they wrote. If you look through the list of season four episodes, you'll find that less than half of them deal with the supposed conflict of the season (by my count, only 8 of the 24 episodes before the final actually showcase the conflict and they are not in a logical order in terms of escalation as I tried to demonstrate above). The rest of the episodes flat out ignore it or even straight up work against the conflict like when Ladybug says this to Chat Noir in Guilttrip: "I probably don't tell you this enough, but I couldn't do this without you. And it'd be a lot less fun too."

Seriously, what even is this season? What is the conflict supposed to be? Because it sure as shit isn't Maribug undervaluing Chat Noir, if memory servers, season four sees her validate him more times than any other season. And it isn't her guiltily hiding things from him like so many fanfics claim because we have multiple points of evidence that prove that she's completely oblivious that there even is a conflict. So what conflict are the writers actually trying to write?

What's even more baffling is that none of this logically leads to the loss at the end of the season:

Maribug's new secrets didn't lead to her downfall. The only reason she lost was because of the secret that's always been there - a fact that's never revealed to her - and a freaking evil twin! So why did it matter that Maribug was keeping secrets? This is made even worse by season five maintaining all of the secrets, once again begging the question of what lesson were we trying to teach here???

Chat Noir wasn't needed for the final fight of the season, Maribug only needed the powers of a few of the temp heroes to win, a baffling ending to a season whose focus was Chat Noir feeling unimportant. You could scrap that conflict entirely and the ending would not change. In fact....

Adrien quitting to be nothing more than a good little boy who obeys his father would have actually saved the world from eventually being rewritten. If you think about it, the season four final actually punishes Adrien for being defiant. So does season five as, if Chat Noir had quit, his father would still be alive. I thought this show was supposed to be a romcom, not a tragedy. Why is Adrien being punished for being a hero? Is this supposed to be karma for lying to Ladybug with the whole Catwalker thing?

This shit is why I say I'm a writing salt, character sugar blog. I can't get mad at the characters when they're in such a nonsense story where things never logically tie together. They all deserve so much better.

None of this is meant to imply that ignorance is a blanket excuse for hurting others. Nor is it meant to imply that you have to forgive someone who hurt you just because they didn't mean to. There's a ton of nuance around these topics. But season four acknowledges none of that nuance while creating a situation that desperately needed nuance because there was no clear right and wrong here. Should Maribug work to be more aware of others feelings? Sure, but that journey can only start after she's made aware of her faults and no one ever points them out to her. Does Chat Noir need to work on clearly communicating his needs? Desperately, but no one is teaching him that lesson so he remains a terrible communicator who suffers in silence. What impressively bad writing.

[hothammies]

will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!

---

will's role in the party:

a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike

medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)

the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh

most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.

party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant

skills + hobbies:

best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals

cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good

great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)

draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal

likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!

quirks / fun facts:

him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)

will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!

him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)

--- other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness. first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!

second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong. of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...

looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!