#and getting a personal interpretation of it and writing it down is very interesting in its own‚ but it is also very interesting

[twinsarekeepers]

I’m curious as to your honest thoughts on the show? Like I love pjo and all but the show was a bit of a let down writing wise. There’s always the point of “it’s an adaptation, not a carbon copy” like yes but this new writing isn’t exemplary better than the book just because it’s rewritten by the author himself

I think the show is well-written not because Rick is attached to it, but because I actually like the way the writers are approaching adapting the source material. I have a lot of issues with the original books in terms of writing quality because frankly speaking, I don’t think Rick is a very good writer. He has a lot of interesting things in those books that he never explores or drops within the first two and this fandom gives him and the books too much credit imo.

This is why I’m not very moved when people try to ascribe meaning to a certain scene or choice he made in the books to get mad at the show for changing. As an example, one of the main things people were upset about was the kids “knowing everything” in the show when they were getting tricked left and right in the book. Many posts were dedicated to how the book version is superior because it illustrates how they’re just twelve years old kids so of course they’ll make mistakes and get tricked by monsters.

That’s a perfectly fine interpretation but I was twelve years old when I first read tlt and I was able to anticipate almost every single trap, despite being pretty gullible and naive at that age. My knowledge of Greek mythology consisted of Disney’s Hercules, maybe two Google searches, and my second grade teacher’s reading of the kid friendly version of the Odyssey. No where near the level of Percy who’d been learning for a whole year in an established class on the topic with Chiron or Grover who was literally a satry born into the world or Annabeth, who spent the majority of her life dedicated to studying specifically quests and Greek mythology and was also on the run fighting monsters for a good portion of her childhood. Like twelve year olds can be dumb but those three stumbling into every trap was asking me to suspend my disbelief too far. I remember being upset that they weren’t able to figure it out because it was obvious that Rick wasn’t making that choice to show any personality flaws or character dynamics (because he would’ve had them learn and grow but they never did they just kept being not smart), he just wasn’t able to figure out a way for them to fall into those traps organically so he had to dumb them down.

I think the show was able to get across the characters’ childishness without compromising their established backstories. Yes, Annabeth knew it was Medusa right away because that makes sense for a kid who has experience with running into monsters. But, she still acted very much like a child in her interactions with her (and throughout the episode and season). She lashed out and called her a liar and wouldn’t listen to her side of the story because it painted her mother in a bad light. That’s peak twelve year old behavior.

Yes, Percy figured out Kronos was behind everything, but it makes sense because Percy knows Greek mythology and where Kronos resides. He still very much acts like a child when he asks Hades to give him back his mom in exchange for nothing because it’s the right thing to do.

There are dozens of examples like this for a lot of complaints of the show. And this is not me saying that the show is perfect: every single show has flaws. For me, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the dialogue or the exposition dumping. It didn’t hinder my enjoyment though because I don’t think it was egregious (and wrt the exposition dumping, I expected it because the book did it and there’s really no way to “show not tell” Greek myths). I also didn’t like that we didn’t get to really see the huge clashes between Zeus and Poseidon in the weather (we got references to it through news reports but I would’ve liked something more). I was able to look past it because I really liked the storytelling and the themes the show was pulling out of the original source material.

I loved Medusa-Sally parallels and Medusa-Annabeth parallels. I loved the juxtaposition of Pan’s quest to manifest density. I loved Percy and Annabeth’s opposite trajectory in respect to their relationships with their godly parents. I loved exploring Sally’s choice to send Percy to school instead of camp. I loved explicitly coding Annabeth as autistic. I loved Luke’s backstory being brought earlier into the story. I loved the deadline passing and Poseidon surrendering to save Percy. I loved Persues-Andromeda and percabeth parallels. I loved fleshing Grover out. I loved glory vs home seeking being the central theme of the show.

And lastly, I was able to understand that with a limited number of episodes and run time (due to the nature of child labor laws!), they did the best they could and I feel like they did a pretty good job for a first season.

These are not ALL of my thoughts on the show because that would be a very long post. I gave one detailed example of why I think the show succeeded in something the fandom tries to ascribe the books and it was like three paragraphs lol. Anyway this is not the post to try and convince me that the show is bad for whatever reason you have cooked up. I’m not going to change my mind and I doubt I’ll change yours. Here’s to a season 2 that builds on a solid season 1!

[soularsss]

Drawing Likeness: with Tem!

okaay since a few people actually showed interest in me sharing a bit of what I've been doing to figure out how to really capture likeness, specifically Temuera Morrison, I figured id do my best to write it out

I am also going to entice you with some of my recent clone art! (oooh some of it is unreleaaasedd)

I am putting the whole thing under the cut because I have a feeling its going to be long:

Read more!!!

a couple disclaimers before we start

-This is not some definite post about how everyone should be drawing clones, nor is it in any way claiming that this is the right way. This is just my musings as I stare at a mans face for way too long and try to replicate it

-I am inexperienced. As kind as you all are to me, drawing real people is relatively new to me, capturing a persons identity through their features is difficult for anybody, and I am no different. I have watched many a video on likeness and had my share of classes, but If im being honest, i rarely put it into practice successfully. So there'll probably be errors in this post or things i will come back to in a few months and wish I had said/done differently

ANYWAYs you guys get my vibe im just here to ramble and today we are rambling about mr copy paste. I am doing this for Law, my clone boy, because I plan on delving further into oc fanart and I want to put effort into representing him correctly!

SO LETS BEGIN

Before even deciding what specific pose of a person I want to draw, I tend to grab a bunch of references and compile them like so

(all of these can be found on my pinterest)

Why so many? Well, we are about to delve into facial features, so when we are dealing with photos we have to take into account that there are an abundance of circumstances that will influence how a persons face will appear, some of these include:

focal length: All of these are taken on different devices, and focal length can play a big part in distorting faces

age will play a part, your face changes a bunch throughout your life!

lighting, while not as major, can muddy the waters and make it difficult to interpret facial planes and features

SO, to make sure we get a proper grasp of what's really going on, I like to make sure we have lots of options to compare and contrast with.

Next up! What I like to do is block out the main facial features with colour on different layers, the features I block out usually are the general face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose and lips. But what you are looking for is the defining features of a person, so that could include other things! Maybe a scar, or some particularly prominent cheekbones.

I dont have any rhyme or reason when it comes to picking my colours, all that matters is you can see all the shapes clearly.

Now I may be biased, because Ive been staring at these for 4 hours, but notice how it still looks like Tem? :D

Anyways, now we can break these parts down, and you'll see what I mean about compare and contrast:

We'll start with isolating the facial shape, putting all these next to eachother you'll notice they arent exactly the same (partly because of my shoddy work) But the distinguishing features run through each shape! Namely the very soft rectangular shape I sketched out in the bottom right there. Along with his soft, wide jaw structure.

I did the same for the rest of his features!

You'll notice I highlight the prominent shapes and ratios,

When drawing anything, it is important to start from the very base shapes and build up.

When drawing something you want to look like someone, those shapes relative to other shapes is what makes it look like them.

I didnt use the same technique with his eyes and lips, but I wrote out some helpful info for them! More importantly for his eyes.

When drawing eyes, I find the most important part is where exactly I draw the creases, (along with the overall shape of the eye itself) it is important to understand where those will present themselves with hooded eyes.

NOW, with an understanding of his facial features in place, lets take a detour to colours:

before I start, a couple things to note:

-Temuera morrison versus the clone troopers in the animated shows:

While I love the animated shows they don't exactly stay close to their source material. Im going to link here to an excellent post discussing whitewashing specifically in relation to the clones.

Temuera is Māori, of Te Arawa (Ngāti Whakaue) and Tainui (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua) whakapapa, and also has Scottish and Irish ancestry.

The Māori people are the indigenous Polynesian people of mainland New Zealand (Aotearoa). Māori originated with settlers from East Polynesia. Māori people often vary in skin tone, Skin colour doesn't determine ethnicity. There's often a correlation but it's not a requirement.

But that is a tangent! What we are aiming for is to stay true to Temuera.

Bringing back my reference photos from before, Ive colour picked a buncha values and theyre all over the place. Why doesnt this work?

Similarly to earlier, you have to take into account the photos themselves. Many things like lighting, colour grading (when it comes to filmography) and makeup, can alter how a skin colour presents in photo.

You can attempt to get true to life by swatching from certain places on the face. Here I've tried to pick some photos with good lighting, and I've also tried to avoid overly lit/shaded areas.

Tem has a very warm, tan skin tone, Instead of colour picking I tend to try and replicate it myself, but I do often bring in references to make sure Im staying true to the source!

a brief intermission to talk about colour theory, something I myself struggle with alot. Often, when putting in flat colours without a background, I will forget to make sure the colours i intend to use will work with the skin tone i have picked! (something that is apparent in older works of mine, not just in relation to clones, but in general, the colours I end up with stray largely from their original sources and it is something I am doing my best to keep in mind and improve in! Although I don't think i am nearly experienced enough in the topic to say I have succeeded yet lol.)

anyways back to Tem :))

Now we can put all of that into practice! Things to keep in mind when drawing out a piece next to a reference like this:

the distance between the eyebrows? how far down his face does his nose go? Basically just, in relation to eachother, where do all those shapes we found earlier, sit?

The screenshot above is from before I did it myself, but instead of directly tracing from the reference, a handy trick I use it to complete your sketch first, and then overlay a traced version to see where your inconsistencies are! Alternatively, you could move your sketch over the image, but I didnt do it that way so!! uh!! im sure it works exactly the same!!!!

When it comes to a final illustration, or any sketch that isnt a direct study, of course you can push and pull and stylise! You'll see below that I'm not exactly 1:1 to my reference photo either.

The important thing with stylisation, or at least my own personal understanding of stylisation is that you need to thoroughly understand the thing you are stylizing! "You need to know the rules to break them" and all that. While shapes, lines and rendering can change, when it comes to drawing someone, and making it look like them, you have to make sure to keep their core features true to source. Caricature can capture a persons vibe whilst drastically exaggerating features, but it will only look like them if you KEEP THOSE FEATURES!!!! SHAPES!!! AHHH!!

But that is just my perspective on the discussion of style versus realism, please dont take is as Law, I dont know what Im on about half the time!!

anyways, after fixing your sketch, add local colours!

I rexified him because why tf not! But this is where you can go crazy with that clone personalization!

And then here is a very very barely rendered version (if you guys want me to explain how i RENDER that would need to be a completely different post, and I havent had anyone ask about it yet so who knows! maybe one day) But I digress, hopefully you learnt something new through my ramblings! It has certainly helped me organize my thoughts and I have also found some areas I would like to focus more on in the future to improve my own art!

TLDR: In order to understand an object, be it a face or a building or literally anything, you have to break it down to its simplest forms, understanding LARGER shapes will help you immensely in the long run

If you guys like this sorta content do let me know! I'd be down to do similar things for armor/anything really, I am very anti gatekeep so really anything at all you want to know! Send me an ask :))

also if you see a spelling mistake.. i don’t know how that got there

[yumeka-sxf]

According to this tweet from Endo, today's new chapter will be the final installment of the "Henry x Martha backstory" arc...and it definitely went out on a high note! The part where Martha meets Henry's wife was absolutely heartbreaking...in particular the below page, starting with an upside down view of the scene, showing how the world is literally warping for Martha, followed by shards and shreds of her various memories with Henry, all the while the "throb, throb" of her heart is overlaying all the panels. Definitely one of Endo's best portrayals of a truly shocking moment.

It's also interesting that we never see Lucia's face, despite her having a big panel when she first appears.

Endo has done this before with other characters, Loid's parents being the other big example. We also never see their faces, despite them appearing several times during his flashback arc.

With the few examples we've had, to me it seems like Endo hides the faces of characters who 1) appear as flashbacks only and 2) who have had a significant emotional impact on the character whose memories they appear in, but at the same time, that character has since done their best to get over the painful memories associated with them. So they basically represent some past trauma for the character (even if they don't necessarily dislike them) but in the current time, they've more or less left that part of their past behind. Hence why their faces are obscured in the character's memories. This is also why I think we'll never see Loid's parents or Lucia's faces outside of flashbacks. This is just my interpretation of course, and I'm curious if there will be more examples in other characters' flashback arcs.

But back to Henry and Martha, I also liked the fact that, despite her broken heart, Martha still saw Lucia as a good person and became friends with her. Henry seems to love her as well. This actually ties back very well to what Martha tells Becky at the end of her story about how dangerous it is to latch onto preconceptions and prejudices without knowing the truth.

In Becky's simple world, she would see Lucia as the "evil seductress who stole Henry away" and Martha has to get him back. But as Martha said, things aren't always that simple and don't always adhere to our preconceived notions. Sometimes things can't end up exactly how you want or expect, so you have to be grateful for what you have and see things as they truly are, despite living with lingering regrets. In fact, this whole speech from Martha at the conclusion of her flashback was extremely deep and profound. Not many people can write both comedy and drama so well, but Endo is certainly one of them.

Also, is this Wiesel's first appearance? Still waiting for the doggy play date chapter with Wiesel, Bond, Max, and Aaron! 🐶

Since it's been so long since I read the first chapter of this arc, I couldn't remember if Martha had actually revealed the identity of her lover in her story, but makes sense that she didn't. I can imagine Becky storming into school yelling at Henderson and causing total embarrassment for all 😅 Funny that she almost guessed correctly though.

I'm surprised we never found out how Martha started working for the Blackbells, but that's an easy enough mystery to solve - she needed work after the wars were over, and being a bodyguard suited an ex-soldier. Also seems like she never told Henry her true feelings either...maybe by the time Lucia died, it was too late and they had both grown somewhat apart by then, and/or they had some additional falling outs about Martha joining the other wars, etc. It just wasn't meant to be and the message of the story was Martha coming to terms with that and being wiser for it.

In conclusion, this was a great arc that really shows Endo's range as a writer who can do both comedy and drama very well. Despite Henry and Martha being side characters, I have a feeling that the struggles they experienced will have relevance later in the series. But for now, I look forward to seeing the Forgers and other characters again (and getting back to the last major uproar of Anya telling Damian about her powers...seems like ages ago, lol). Endo will be taking a well deserved break, so the next new chapter will be on August 19th!

I also have some new posts planned in the coming weeks, so stay tuned for those as well 😀

[ethereallyjade]

Pick a Song: How to Build your Confidence

Choose a photo that calls to you and the cards will tell you a message. As always, this is just for fun. Do not take anything seriously or above legal or medical advice. If you're interested in personal tarot readings and want to support me, check out my Paid Readings! Masterlist

1 - 3

Images are not mine

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟙

the boy is mine

I'm feeling hesitancy. "Take some time and you'll get there."

Be more spontaneous and outgoing. Say yes more often (when comfortable ofc) and a whole new you could very well emerge.

I'm seeing painting or writing, some sort of creative hobby that involves a tool of some kind or maybe ink.

You have talents and you should be using them in competitions, or at the very least putting your work out there for others to see.

Be an artist, and more importantly, own it.

Your work should be filling you with excitement, not dragging you down. Do something that makes you happy, it's been too long. Or maybe travel a little. Do something that actually excites you and fills you with ideas and passion, then you'll be that much closer to a feeling of fulfillment.

Channeled Song: Kissland - The Weeknd (Yo, as I was looking for the song, I saw the show 'You' pop up. Maybe you should go watch it on Netflix or something, especially considering the pic you chose lol)

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟚

MILLION DOLLAR BABY

Okay, I'm already getting that you're pretty smooth with it.

"Just keep being you, baby"

I feel a cocky sort of energy, a smirk, something flirtatious. Maybe you're good at flirting or you should allow yourself to be more flirty.

Okay, after pulling the cards I'm seeing two different ways to interpret this pile.

One. You are holding yourself back from your own happiness. You are already everything you want to be, but you hold yourself back and put on a face for everyone. You act so mature and independent that you don't allow yourself to have fun, and in order to feel more happy, you need to ease your control over yourself and just allow yourself to feel in the moment and have fun. Worry later. Allow yourself to be excited again!

Or two, you're the complete opposite and you need to get more control over yourself. Maybe you have a bit of an ego, or trust too much, or have ridiculously high expectations. Sometimes you go too hard and end up embarrassed or people start talking about you and you're inability to stop. If this resonates, then you need to have a little more independence and maturity. This will grant you the freedoms and money that you need in order to thrive and glow in the future. Your hard work will bring you abundance right now, then in the future you'll look back and realize all the things you thought you had were actually really fake and how much better things are for you now. You are already great, but you could be more. Create some stability and realness in your life, honey.

Channeled Song: Burning Down the House - Talking Heads

ℙ𝕚𝕝𝕖 𝟛

BOA

"Take it slow" "It's okay to make mistakes"

Are you a perfectionist? A little hard on yourself when you mess up? Allow yourself to make mistakes.

Girly, you are already great. Don't let your spirits die. Don't let your talents die.

I'm feeling that you've been really down lately; loss of faith and hope, loss of optimism.

I know it's hard to just get more optimistic, especially when you've been let down so many times, but I'm seeing that you just need to hang on a little longer, push a little harder, because something great is about to happen just around the corner.

Don't fool yourself. You hold all the power that you need. I know you're tired, but you still gotta be the one that gets up and makes a difference in your life. Just trust yourself, and trust your talents. You will get there.

You've been through more than enough challenges lately, but I'm seeing that the answer to your problems is actually very simple: Just step away for a moment. The reason you can't overcome is because you're not allowing yourself to use you talents or creativity to their fullest potential. You put too much stress and pressure of yourself and it's not allowing you to be at your best. Take some time, de-stress, don't think about the issue at all, then come back and you'll be more than ready. Pressure only boils you down. Take time to flourish and you'll be everything you need to be.

You are already everything. Just let yourself breath and you'll realize nothing ever needed to change about you, because you already have it.

Channeled Song: Disturbia - Rihanna

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[iz-star]

Some thoughts about Zayne in "Adventure above clouds" event:

Like I've explained here, I've been having a bad feeling about Zayne's fate in the next main story updates, and after finishing Zayne's route in "Adventure above clouds" my feelings of uncertainty are just increasing.

So, I'm going to write down some thoughts I had while playing his route, especially about him wearing Dawnbreaker's variant outfit "Shadowfall dawn", which might be a bit interesting for some.

Disclaimer: I would like to pride myself as a Zayne connossieur but that's actually quite far away from reality. I'm a Zayne main and I devour every piece of info that there is about him, however my interpretations and opinions are my own and can be wrong. I'm someone that sometimes tends to overanalyze so, it's up to you if you agree or no with my takes! I'm also always open to be corrected ❤️

Let's get strated with by saying that in this event, Zayne was undoubtedly and utterly perfect. He's honestly all what he's always been: Sweet, patient, cute, smart, funny, gentle, caring and a lot of other things, the only difference here is that he's more prone to show his affections openly and straightforward which only showcases his development as character. It's like he finally feels at ease by expressing himself, especially around MC. When I say he was perfect, I'm not talking at how lovely he was (he's always been lovely anyway) but more like, he's natural, he feels less stiff, totally happy with MC and himself, smiling most part of the time and showing his love even through words, to the point MC says this:

Since Snowy Serenity he's been more direct at expressing his intimate thoughts towards MC. For example, in previous cards he would always refer to her as "someone" and even refer to him in third person: "Someone thinks it's special treatment" [Drunken Intimacy] "He can't ignore you even if he wants to" [Tranquil Heart] "Recently, a certain someone ocupies my mind. Whether I'm walking, eating or sleeping, I keep picturing myself with her" [Heartstring healer] to mention a few.

It's in Snowy Serenity that we have a clear change in his way of expressing his feelings. He starts with "I don't want the person I like to get hurt", in here he's still using the third person but the message is really straightforward "the person I like" and as the conversation goes by and it becomes more meaningful, deep and intimate, he leaves all his chains behind and says "I need you, I have never denied that". This card is all about communication, even he admits that he's always been bad at saying what others want to hear and still, he's trying.

In Hidden Motive, this behaviour keeps going. When MC says that the lights behind him are beautiful, he looks at her and replies "Indeed, very beautiful". Because his eyes are fixating in her, she clarifies that she's talking about the lights but without hesitation Zayne replies: "I know. I was talking about you"

And I'd like you to recall Drunken Intimacy because this is like a paralel with Hidden Motive, since both cards were made for lovers' day festivities; Drunken intimacy for Valentine's Day and Hidden Motive for Qixi festival which is lovers' day in China. Not only they are like cards that go hand in hand but also showcase Zayne's and MC's character develompment and how their relationship has changed:

See the difference?

In Snowy Serenity and Hidden Motive, there's a focus on improving communication, being honest about their needs and feelings (Zayne saying "I'll survive" at MC's concern and her telling him that he'd better stop talking in Snowy Serenity and MC talking about her "last wishes" before dying and entrusting them to Zayne and he replying that he didn't come all the way here to listen to her talk about that nonsense) and finally, getting both physically and emotionally closer.

In this last event, "Adventure above clouds" it feels like the result of this devlopment is finally paying off all their effort: they're both happy working together to solve the escape room, showing open affection, talking about the future and the past ("Us in 50 years" "Our childhood memories" or how was Zayne's university years without MC and the big difference now that he has someone to watch the falling snow with). They talk about how they're each other's sun, how they keep each other warm. When Zayne says that the snow will show them the way and they both "pray" it kind of reminded me of Master of Fate. They getting at the top of the Ice Palace reminded me of Foreseer.

(It's like we've reached peak, literally lol. Ok, bad joke, that's why I love Zayne).

And once all of this has happened, once they've gone through all this develpment, they've come this far together, even bits of the story reminded me of Zayne's myths, and they've talked about the past and the future, what's next?

Zayne mentions eternity.

Zayne has mentioned eternity a couple of times, like in one of the PV's where he's wearing End of Depths outfit ("As the cosmos dances to the tune of eternity, life will reach the fathomless depths of deepspace") and in some of the texts that show up when you level up your affinity with him ("I want to turn every moment into eternity).

In here, he doesn't mention eternity directly, but it's implied when he says "Every snowflake will rememember your name. As well as our story". Eternity is just another way to refer to death for immortal people. It's like Zayne is saying "Your name and our story will endure in the snow even when we're no longer here". We often talk about the memories we leave behind in this world once we part from it, who will remember us? What are the proofs that we existed and lived in this world once we're gone? Will our story fade away? In here is like Zayne is just promising her that their love won't be forgotten.

Let's remind that one focal point in the story is immortality. We know that MC it's immortal and even in the main story, when Zayne it's explaining things about the protocore in MC's heart, he mentions that he doesn't know too much about it, however he knows that her protocore creates a shield around her when she's attacked and that she will live long enough to discover its misteries (kind of reminds of the Creatio Protocore that Foreseer gave MC but that's another talk for another day).

Whether if Dr Zayne knows about MC's immortality or he doesn't, that's something we don't know yet (altho something tells me that he knows, but I won't be explaning this here, if you're curious about it just ask), however we know two things:

1._ Zayne it's against using protocores in human hearts to reach "immortality". To him, death is still essential to life.

2._ Even knowing this, he also knew in his heart that he would do everything in his power to prevent MC's death and he seems to know that something bad is about to happen.

Master of Fate and Foreseer already proved these points. Master of Fate had to kill MC for the greater good but decided to say "fuck it" and instead chose to seal her powers. Foreseer also broke the rules for her sake and gave her the Creatio Protocore, going against Astra's will in order to cure her illness and extend her life (probably one of the things that caused her immortality?). She's always been the exception to every rule in Zayne's book. Something tells me that things with Dr Zayne won't be the exception.

And now... we have to recall something about Zayne's first PV.

Ever since the beginning, Zayne's route was presented as something with angst. It's interesting to hear these unknown voices saying "Won't you regret it" "She will not come back" "You've paid the price"

This whole PV makes it look like Zayne puts MC to sleep in order to protect her (like with MoF) so she wouldn't "come back" ( revive with the help of her aether core) and then... he loses control of his evol and freezes the whole hospital? Dies in the process? These are just speculations and can be wrong, however we simply know that something bad is happening there and, if we recall them talking in "Adventure above the clouds" and "Us in fifty years"... this PV kinda shatters the hopes for them to have a life as long as that. However, 5* memories and events are not exactly connected to the main story but I think they kind of... interconnect somehow? I'm still wondering how the devs are going to relate each ML route with the Main Story. The announced that they are going to release more "Main Story Branches" from September to December, and I don't know if by saying "Branches" they meant routes? Or simply referencing to the way they've released the main story until now, with each chapter dedicated to each LI? Either way, those are questions for another day.

Now, let's remember this:

"When you and the world wake up, I hope we do not meet again"

A quote that kind of leads us to Zayne's next lifetime: Dawnbreaker.

I've mentioned above that there are bits of Zayne's route in Adventure above clouds that reminded me of MoF and Foreseer, but now it's also time to mention the most obvious thing, the Dawnbreaker reference in this event, of course: "Shadowfall dawn":

There are two things about Zayne's look here:

1._ He's wearing the variant version of Dawnbreaker's outfit.

2._ He also has a halo above his head.

And these two things together create an interesting concept considering that Dawnbreaker Zayne, the serial killer is considered the Grim Reaper, his whole aesthetic is dark, it's even clarified in his anecdotes that his wardrobe was full of black clothes. To see him with a brown variant of his outfit wouldn't make sense at some point... So, of course, Doctor Zayne being his opposite, the one who instead of ending lifes, saves them to the point of exahustion, wears the clear variant outfit, looking like an angel.

Were have we read this before?

Of course, Doctor Zayne is in the opposite role of Dawnbreaker Zayne and even tho Doctor Zayne is always wearing black clothes outside of his lab coat, it's actually wearing his profession's clothes what completes the aesthetic with Dawnbreaker: The Guardian Angel (white) and The Grim Reaper (black).

However in Adventure above clouds, Zayne is not wearing his lab coat cause he is not in his Doctor role. He's just being Zayne, he's being himself, what he is. He's being free, like I commented at the beginning of this post. Still, the fact he's wearing Dawnbreaker's variant with a halo seems a bit supicious considering what I've already pointed out, right? It could also be that I'm simply looking too much into it, but I also believe in the power of foreshadowing, especially considering that we all know that Zayne's birthday is coming next and it kind of connects with Dawnbreaker.

In the story of Adventure above clouds, of course there is a reason as to why everyone is wearing an accessory, in Zayne's case, it's because his role is being "Winter's emissary" just as MC, so she is also wearing one, however we all know that "Winter's emissary" it's more likely to be a fitting title for Zayne than for her. Recalling what it's been previously mentioned here, he says "With Winter's Emissary by your side, every snowflake will remember your name, as well as our story".

Zayne is saying that he'll be by her side in the snow, he is promising her eternity in the snow and with the halo above his head, it is clear that he kinda looks like MC's Guardian Angel, the one who is always going against his duty to ensure her safety, the one who pursued a medical career in order to take care of her heart disease, the one who is always on the lookout for her health and tho stric, still indulges her a lot. Aren't angels emissaries as well?

But you know, in order to become an angel, you first have to die? Doctor Zayne didn't have to die in order to fullfil his role as a doctor, however this one is simply Zayne. Emissaries never stay, they always have to return to the ppl who sent them. Will Zayne return to snow?

What was Zayne's reply to MC's post again?

At the end, all of this are nothing more than supositions that of course, it'd be very happy to get wrong. I wouldn't mind ending up looking like a clown if these theories are wrong and we get to spend a lot of time and precious memories with Zayne. I genuinely just want to see him being happy after all these years of respressed emotions.

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

[changbunnies]

All About You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: age gap, royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), pet names (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times– that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check– and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option.

He lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you– he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching the princess' description. And as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do.

He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself.

It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe.

But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you– there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power.

“Princess–” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage.

Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error– one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach.

You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour.

He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together.

“There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised.

He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before?

You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.”

Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.”

“Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death.

He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel– because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it?

You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter– you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats.

You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose– he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe.

You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning.

He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want. But you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him– you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion, no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs.

It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho thinks he would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?”

Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You– what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard; a man who is your fathers age at that. But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest.

“Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation.

“Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

And truly, Minho was the ideal man; at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you.

He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil; you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame.

You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly. You'd match one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin.

In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this– to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side.

“You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” He looks you over carefully following your question, grip on the armrests tightening.

Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs before Minho rises from his chair. He's is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need– all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin.

He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..”

He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips.

He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows.

Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip.

If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin. He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too.

His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing.

You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. “Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something.

You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your arousal. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect.

You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head.

“Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims.

“I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers.

It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women– women who knew what they were doing. But really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked– you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question.

Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet.

Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation.

“You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. “Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss.

His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling.

It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all. “M-Minho, I’m– 'm gonna–” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence.

He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.”

All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face and gushing around his fingers.

He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes.

You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head. You’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down.

He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit. “Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly.

“Feels good, I just– I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel about him even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess–” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious.

“Minho, I–” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop.

You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please–” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble.

But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you– not that you mind in the slightest. You’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you.

He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release.

He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust. A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours.

Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him. His arms wrap around you snuggly, and keep you upright against his chest. You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek.

He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks.

In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably?

He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be. You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least.

“Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same.

He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided– so if you make your future husband, your father, or even the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi, I wanted to say that I really liked reading your analyses when it comes to flaws in lmk's writing, along with the ranking of the villains that you did. I hope it's alright to ask for advice, since I'd like to make a romantic self insert story with Macaque, but the thing is that I'm worried on how to portray the platonic relationship between Sun Wukong and Macaque. While we still don't know entirety of how Macaque died in his fight with Wukong, I've already made decision to address both of their faults that caused their relationship's downfall. What I'm worried about is how to portray it clearly that it's both of their faults, without making them too OOC. Some fans have tendency to chose sides with their whole situation, which is something I'd like to avoid. But I'm not sure how to avoid that, which is why I'd like to ask for your advice on it.

Sun Wukong and Macaque

A Rundown on the Fallout

This is an interesting question, and thank you for asking! Given how much of their personal backstory is left to viewer interpretation, I’ve included a little bit of mine.

I think the big, big thing that people miss with the Sundial/Shadowpeach fallout is how severely uneven it is. But give me a minute to get there…

Probably the biggest of Past!Sun Wukong’s biggest issues is what I’m going to call “externalizing”. (This isn’t the appropriate way to use that word, but I’m at a loss here) Wukong is bright and loud and happy- and very, very desperate for attention.

Sun Wukong’s literal first action in the world was to excitedly barrel towards a group of monkeys. His first words end with him asking plainly “Don’t ya like it?!” like a child begging for praise from a parent. He shows off to Subodhi’s other students. He eagerly tells a chaotic story to his sworn brothers and is implied to play it up to some degree for attention.

This is direct opposition to Macaque.

Past!Macaque is quiet, withdrawn. He has no ties to other people. He doesn’t pipe up. He’s not bold or confident. So what does Macaque do?

Well, just about jackshit. There’s only TWO members of the six-strong brotherhood that he actually shares interactions with- Sun Wukong and Peng.

Azure Lion? Yellowtusk? Demon Bull King? Macaque literally doesn’t interact with any of them even once. Nobody calls him brother. Flash to the modern day, and he’s the last person Azure bothers looking for.

He doesn’t joke, or tell stories, or try to bond with the rest of the crew. This is literally how he responds to being called a coward and a rodent by a “brother”.

By mildly frowning.

(Side note: WUKONG IS NOT IN THE WRONG FOR NOT DEFENDING MACAQUE FROM PENG. Macaque never went above a mild frown and never acted hurt or upset beyond this little facial expression. If he was sad ((WHICH HE WASN’T)) or seethingly angry ((WHICH HE WASN’T)) then it’s on Macaque and Macaque alone for not defending himself. Wukong is not his brother’s keeper, etc.)

(Macaque, even in the past, was a lot stronger than he’s often given credit for. Did this remark make him unhappy? Yes. Did it break or ruin him? No.)

He has no friends or ties to the past. No mentor and no fellows and no troop. No one likes him. No one wants him. No once cares about him… except for the Monkey King.

All he has is Sun Wukong.

So already they’re on this MASSIVELY unbalance scale where Wukong has a title and a troop and a heaping handful of immortalities and a band of brothers and a sacred weapon and a mountain and and and!!!

And… Macaque has… his shadow powers?

Yeah, they’re not on level footing. Wukong could pull out of the brotherhood and away from Macaque and throw down his staff and still have so, so much!

And Macaque, if he left Wukong, would have next to nothing.

Sun Wukong is his one good thing. His one star in a dark sky. Sun Wukong is all that Macaque has.

Already is this an EXTREMELY unhealthy dynamic, where you’re basically living for a second person without them putting that devotion back towards you-

Which is exactly what causes the downfall of this relationship.

Macaque doesn’t speak up for or against anything. He’s just willing to sit pretty and play along… because it’s for his one good thing.

Because it’s for Wukong.

Even if his brothers don’t like him, or he gets mocked, or he doesn’t want to play along, Macaque grits his teeth and stays- because it’s for Wukong.

Because he can’t lose his one good thing.

So he’ll do anything.

And that’s the problem.

The Monkey King isn’t asking him to shut up and play nice. Nor does he ask for blind loyalty. And he doesn’t ask his friend not to voice his concerns and fears.

Macaque is choosing to do these things.

Because he can’t lose his one good thing.

Macaque is choosing to “internalize” (again, this isn’t the appropriate way to use that word, but I’ve set a precedent here) his thoughts and feelings.

Macaque pulls everything inside, and Sun Wukong pushes it all out.

The First Crack: Uneven Expectations

Macaque is not honest with his thoughts and feelings. He never actually expresses the way he feels to Wukong, which leads to the Monkey King never understanding his feelings. But you know what Macaque DOES do?

He gently and softly nudges the idea of maybe kinda I dunno potentially not taking over the entire Celestial Realm???

But he doesn’t say no.

Macaque never expresses himself or genuinely tries to talk Wukong out of overthrowing the Jade Emperor. He just hints at the idea and EXPECTS Wukong to pick up on his thoughts and wants without any real effort on his own part. He puts ALL of the onus onto Wukong to understand and reach out to him, without putting that amount of time and effort in himself.

Macaque wants to be understood without putting on the effort to be understandable, which isn’t fair to Wukong at all.

The Second Crack: Unfairly Divided Consequences

Wukong is solely punished for the crimes of six men, and left to rot while his sworn brothers run free.

(Quotes pulled from prior analysis)

Sun Wukong is trapped. For attempting to overthrow the Jade Emperor, he is sentenced to FIVE HUNDRED YEARS trapped under a mountain.

Let me elaborate for anyone who doesn't sympathize.

For the next five hundred years, Sun Wukong will be 75% immobile and alone under a nearly lightless mountain. There will be no noise, no stimulation, and no company. He will suffer in silence, and he will suffer alone.

But you know who ISN'T being punished for an attempt to overthrow the Jade Emperor?

Macaque.

Now, this is funny. Wukong leads a six strong band of brothers against the forces of the Celestial Realm, but only ONE of them faces consequences for the rebellion- himself.

Even five hundred years later when Wukong is set free and traveling with his fellow pilgrims...

No one else has faced consequences for the rebellion. All five of Wukong's "brothers" (Azure Lion, Peng, Demon Bull King, Yellowtusk, and yes, Macaque) get away scot-free to continue their plans and schemes.

I would be pissed. You would be pissed. There is not ONE SINGLE PERSON in this world that would NOT be pissed about how blatantly unfair this is.

(End Quote)

This is especially important if you read Azure Lion’s about Wukong “surrendering” as the truth (he is an unreliable narrator), then it’s likely his brothers were spared as a result of his surrender. And still, he’s all alone in this cavern, bored and uncomfortable and angry.

And probably very sad and lonely, too.

The Third Crack: Peach Symbolism

When Wukong wants to cheer Macaque up, what does he do?

Engage in snacking and physical affection that leaves the two snuggled up side by side on a sunny beach.

Seems like the Monkey King has a pretty good read on his best bud!

Now, how does Macaque repay the favor?

After an unknown period of time spent in the extensively explained condition above leaves Wukong angry and frustrated, Macaque comes by to-

Jam a peach into Wukong’s face and act like nothing is wrong at all.

Sun Wukong doesn’t want to pretend that nothing is wrong. He doesn’t want to act like everything is okay. He wants to be free.

But Macaque has put on an act this entire time. He’s played along and kept quiet and complacent and been “good”, and even now is he acting.

So he presents, of all fucking thing, a peach.

Sun Wukong likes peaches, yes. They’re likely a comfort food from a time long past, a constant in his long, long life.

(I bet that on Flower Fruit Mountain there’s a special strain untainted by the push of genetically-modified fruit that’s grown to be chock-full of sugar. I bet it’s his absolute favorite thing in the world to eat. I bet he shared it with the Pilgrims. I bet he wishes he could share it with them again. I bet.)

They’re a symbol of massive freedom- freedom from strife and pain and death.

And having that symbol presented to him so plainly and pretend-happily?

It’s just the final nail in his diminishing coffin of self-control.

The Fourth Crack: Wukong Lashes Out

So, as was unavoidable from the start of his imprisonment- Wukong snaps and rejects the peach, mocking Macaque for trying to cheer him up from a five-hundred year sentence with fruit and a false smile.

But he doesn’t stop there-

The Monkey King continues to castigate his best friend, blaming him for things that are the shoulderweights of six men.

Except he’s not really lashing out at Macaque directly- he’s just lashing out, and Macaque happens to be the nearest target.

There was bound to be a breakdown eventually. No matter how you look at this scenario, anyone would snap. There’s literally not even one person who wouldn’t break down eventually.

And then, Macaque lashes right back, and says something very interesting-

The Fifth Crack: Macaque Lies and Run Away

(Censored quotes taken from same analysis)

No, he didn't.

Macaque nudges the idea. He implies the idea. He hints it, quietly and softly.

"You're really going through with this?" Is not him shutting down the idea of fighting the Celestial Realm.

It's him being a coward and trying to dance around the issue without a direct confrontation.

Not even once does Macaque say: “We shouldn't fight the Jade Emperor."

He directly LIES to present himself as being the better person during this fight.

Macaque is lying to his best friend’s face to make himself look better in this utterly pointless argument, then prepares to run away and never comes back- but not before placing literally all of the blame for EVERYTHING onto Wukong’s shoulders.

(End quote)

Final Crack: YOU are responsible for MY behavior!

Finally, Macaque makes a few last “Nothing is ever MY fault!” statements to Wukong, consisting of:

“You dragged everyone else into this!”

“You put yourself here, not me!”

Which are BOTH blatantly untrue, given that

1. The Azure Lion is actually the one who started the Brotherhood in the first place

2. Macaque is a grown man who makes his own decisions

3. The rest of the Brotherhood are grown men who make their own decisions

4. Macaque went along with the plan willingly

5. The rest of the Brotherhood went along with the plan willingly

6. Everyone took part in the attempted rebellion of their own will and volition

Everyone is responsible for the end result, including Macaque who was there literally every step of the way, but he doesn’t want to accept that!

Macaque wants to be a perfect little victim who can wipe his hands of the matter, and who better to blame…

Then his “one good thing”, who is now utterly helpless and incapable of doing anything about it?

Macaque only finally lashes out and speaks up when there is literally no way to face recourse for it- which is proof of the cowardice lurking inside him.

There’s a big reason that Wukong calling him out for “running away” hits so hard and is what finally prompts Macaque into speaking up and tries to absolve himself of all blame.

Because Macaque knows that Wukong is right.

The first thing that Macaque does when things go wrong is to prioritize himself and run away. (Just remember how he responded to unleashing the Samadhi Fire.) Then, when all is said and past and it’s time to tell the tale, Macaque will whitewash himself- which he does blatantly in “Shadowplay”.

So when his gilded “one good thing” finally cracks the image Macaque built up by being a fallible person who stumbles and slips up and makes very human mistakes?

He abandons ship, and allows his flaws to start sliding out- now Macaque is “externalizing”, which he’ll continue to do to the present day- taking everything inside and putting it out- by projecting and slandering and lying and trying to hurt innocent people.

Essentially, Macaque puts his best friend on a pedestal and of his own will and volition plays the role of “lackey” for nothing in return without being asked, then ditches him over a fight and returns to a much unhealthier group of “friends”, while Sun Wukong is left to serve a lonely sentence as punishment. But because the Monkey King receives punishment and does his time, Wukong is allowed a chance at redemption under the loving and caring eye of his Master, Tang Sanzang, and manages to redeem himself, where his guilty brothers going free leads them to continually rack up crimes that leaves them on the receiving end of the pilgrims wrath.

Okay I’m tired now love you guys ❤️❤️

[howaheartbreaks]

Tried to write this on reddit but the post was too long and thought I’d throw my hand in the tumblr ring:

My interpretation on why Colin’s arc this season matters so much to me.

The benefit and the curse to this season is that to understand the full story arc of Colin and Penelope you have to watch all three seasons. I feel like they could have been more blatant in the text and given them more scenes in part 1 to completely flesh this out and remind the viewer what they’ve been through, but this is all in the text (past seasons) and subtext up until the carriage speech.

Season 1 Colin is romantic and naive. He becomes infatuated with Marina almost at first sight and still probably believes in fairy tale romances. Marina herself says that Colin is eager and does not guard his affections. Anthony has his duties as head of the family, Benedict has his bohemian pursuits, both of them are known flirts and rakes, frequenting brothels often and having had a world of experience. It’s implied that Colin is a virgin and when he proposes to Marina, Anthony scolds him for his naivety and suggests he should have been taken to brothels to be a man and “wet his wick” as if he were experienced, he wouldn’t be so hasty to marry someone he didn’t know. Colin doubles down in his commitment to Marina which then ends in tragedy when it’s revealed she’s pregnant. He understandably falls into depression as he had chosen a purpose (to be a loyal husband in love) and he had gotten screwed over due to his naivety. Colin also has a bit of hero complex, which we can see multiple times throughout season 1 such as when he dances with Pen after Cressida spills her drink. In his duty and loyalness, he confesses that he would have married Marina if she had told him the truth. Colin is very loyal and very protective of those he loves and he sees his value in how he can help and protect others, and having them need him. He makes the decision to do the thing he always wanted to do, travel, as Pen kept reminding him, as a way to become literally, more worldly.

Colin returns in season 2 and finds that people aren’t that interested in his travels nor did they particularly miss him while he was gone, the exception of which was of course Pen. He tries to speak to his family and gets shut down. He feels isolated once more and then also realises he still doesn’t have a sense of purpose, nor does anyone need him. It’s implied he is still sensitive because despite travelling, Colin is still not the man the ton expects him to be. He visits Marina in some naive hope, and she basically tells him to grow up and move on with his life. Penelope and he have a lovely conversation about purpose. He looks into various pursuits and then as we know he gets to be the hero again when he discovered Jack Featherington is swindling the ton and saves the Featheringtons. But Colin is still beheld to the expectations of the ton and when the men are finally paying atttention to him at the ball, he says he would never court Penelope in an attempt to fit in, even though we’ve all just clearly witnessed him go out of his way to save her.

Colin leaves again, and this time he vows to be a changed man. He sleeps around, “grows up”, learns how to be charming and finally when he returns is he warmly greeted by all the women and the men as the ton finally recognises him as a man. Anthony and Benedict clap him on the back, the ladies fawn over him, and men like Fife and Cho engage with him in a way we haven’t seen since he told them he wouldn’t court Penelope. He plays aloof with stories of his travels because he knows the mystery makes people more intrigued than when he told them everything (telling his family he doesn’t remember how many cities he’s been to, and then telling Pen it’s 17 because he knows the answer), and in some cases he is still not comfortable or willing to share personal details of his sexual exploits because he’s still a romantic at heart. Colin feels like he’s nailed it.

Except. He hasn’t. It’s only surface level. The cracks first emerge when he approaches Penelope at the debutante showing, going out of his way to find her (as he always does). She seems closed off and has not written to him all summer. Previously she was the ONLY one to engage him, and probably the only one he could be himself with. Yet that one connection has completely gone. This is pure speculation and unlikely to ever be confirmed, but without Pen’s correspondence it may have even been a catalyst for him to change himself/seduce women. You can tell he’s nervous approaching her, even with his new aesthetic, which he himself remarks are only clothes. She’s closed off and basically dismisses him, probably leaving him feeling a bit stupid. He sees her glow up at the ball (:o) and while he does not approach her but continues to watch her, he runs after her immediately when she runs out, in care for her wellbeing and also because he knows the conversation he is having with the lords is super shallow. She dismisses him again, and then tells him it was his grave error in trying to fit in that made him lose his one deep connection. And then he vows IMMEDIATELY to make amends, calling upon her the next day to make it right. It is his first real and honest conversation. He tells her charm can be taught (he’s faking it), that he seeks her out because she lifts his spirits (he never looks happy in a public setting unless he is with her) and that hers is the one person whose opinion matters the most.

So:

1. Colin was a naive romantic who felt like he had to conform to the approved of society

2. He is faking his true personality (shown in his heartfelt conversation with Pen, how despite everything he seeks her out and values her the most, that he lies about how many cities he’s been to just to seem cooler)

3. He is fighting against societal expectations

4. At this stage he’s still trying to have it all - the women, his family’s approval, the ton’s approval and Pen’s approval.

He goes home and is furious with Lady Whistledown because she has called out his obvious ruse, and he is upset that what he is trying to fake is so obvious.

Episode 2 rolls around and he doesn’t do much except follow her around and fawn after her. His new interests have started to fade immediately as soon as he starts speaking with Pen again. He tells her to be herself and act like they did when they were kids - which is hilarious, considering Colin has attempted to change everything about himself to NOT be himself and NOT act like an adult (the irony Colin is not aware of). It’s her compliments of his writing and his eyes that make him flustered. He entertains women and men at gatherings, but is always looking for her and physically not pleased when she speaks to other men. He laughs with her (honestly, first moment of pure childhood glee for him and he makes a pun which was reminiscent of earlier seasons Colin). He runs after her again and emotionally argues with Eloise, because damn the ton it’s Pen he cares about (my poor sweet boy). He’s so loyal and protective of her. He doesn’t even attempt to dance with anyone at these parties. Hes so distraught she could be suffering that he goes immediately to her, damn the rules of society, and agrees to kiss her and even tries to keep going before she leaves. Because he finally realises that his feelings for Pen are romantic, that it’s not just friendship that he seeks, but a true romantic relationship with his best friend.

He’s awkward and cute as he approaches her the next day, which is the complete opposite of how he’s been trying to act - she is making him act like his former self, his true self. She tells him they should keep their distance and he reluctantly puts on the armour again.

But, Colin actually lasts for like a day before he realises he will go crazy if he does not confess his feelings to Penelope and the entire facade that his has created has completely crumbled by this point - the obsessed boy is BACK. He stops talking to the women in the ton, expresses 0 interest in sex with the prostitutes, entertains a drink with the other lords before going off at them for how shallow and meaningless and fake they all are, and then commits several social faux pas pursuing Pen because he doesn’t care about anything except her anymore.

His confession in the carriage is the culmination of all of this. He’s tried to feel less (because he was too sensitive), he’s tried to grow up (and be a man), he’s tried to flirt and be a rake (because he was too green), and he’s tried to fight against expectations (Penelope not being desirable) but what is the point because all he wants and his entire happiness is centred around Penelope and if she rejected him or married Debling he would have nothing left.

Colin Bridgerton does not care anymore because he is #1 loyal obsessed protective boy and he will go through heaven and earth for Penelope and I love him so much for it.

[spockandawe]

Double edit: actually, that's enough of that.

Edit: I was expecting maybe thirty notes tops. This is a surprise, and one that doesn't delight me. If I hear about any harassment stemming from this post, I'll be more pissed at the harasser than the person this is about.

God. Dammit.

I hate this, let's just out that out there! I'm unhappy that I'm talking about any of this, I'm unhappy there's an issue that's come up at the intersection of media preservation, respecting authors, and one of my favorite book series. And I'm unhappy that I've censored the names in the screenshots I'm about ti post! I'm not happy that I'm helping to slide consequences away from someone who thought this was an acceptable thing to do to a modern working author. But I'm even less happy this is something that happened in the first place, and I'm VERY unhappy the original post has been deleted without a whisper of accountability or apology.

And here's a partial screenshot of the IA page, which has since been removed. I get the excitement to share something you love with a new audience. This isn't the right way to go about it.

First, if Martha Wells' patreon is still in place, I encourage everyone in the strongest possible terms to go sign up for it. It'll charge you one dollar. I've been a member since probably 2018, and I mistakenly believed it was locked to new members (it's labeled 'Currently Closed To New Patrons') until I had reason to look it up last night, when I tripped across this reddit post from earlier this year.

Now. I was looking it up because of this sudden patreon message:

Even if the patreon goes away, I still recommend that people sign up. Explore the stories! They're very fun! Even though the patreon has been dormant for years, I've loved having that repository in place.

In fact, in the interest of full disclosure, what kept me from immediately reblogging last night is that I've felt the same archival urges! I bound a hard copy of these stories earlier this year, and let me quote my own words from that post:

I live in a state of perpetual low key stress over the impermanence of digital media and that goes extra for sites that aren’t designed to work well as archives. I hope, desperately, that someday Martha Wells publishes more raksura, maybe even including these stories! I will buy it immediately. No thoughts, wallet empty. I own all her other raksura books in literally three formats, fingers crossed that by printing this, I can actualize a formal official printing of these stories by the author 😂

So. Archiving, yes. But especially with a living, working author, I would never DREAM of posting a public free-for-all with IA and mediafire links. My most charitable interpretation is that OP thought it was fine since the stories were "free," even though the writeups acknowledge that access costs a dollar. Ao3 is also free. Reposting someone else's fic is still understood to be a dick move.

Last night i was left kind of stunned, and I was hoping to see some kind of response from op this morning taking responsibility, and was... disappointed to see that the post was just deleted. The IA listing was deleted too, and I hadn't actually looked up the mediafire post yet but I'm guessing it's also been nuked. Out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was anything more in the comments, so I found a surviving reblog. And there was!

So I'm writing this post because I'm... frustrated. Taking down the files is a good step. Posting them publicly was a worse step, but hey. I still more than understand if Martha Wells still deletes her patreon. I don't understand what sending her files of her own stories is meant to accomplish, but whatever. Ascribing a profit-driven motive is driving me up a wall, though. She's financially stable. I read her email, and what i see is frustration that even though it only cost a dollar to access 62k of her work through her own chosen location, control of her writing is being forcibly removed from her. I'm sure that seeing copies sold by third parties wouldn't help, but I don't think that's the root issue.

This is a fandom-heavy website, I'm sure most of us have seen posts about not reposting art when you can share directly from the artist's blog. I've seen posts about stop copying your ao3 faves over to wattpad just because you like reading there better. At a fundamental level, I read the message from Martha Wells as a deep frustration at having no way to share her creative work without someone removing control of it from her hands. And I don't know if there's any way to really take back that damage.

[celaenaeiln]

Okay but you can’t just say “I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here” and not follow up with another post because that’s just cruel 😔😞 (aka this is me saying I really like & enjoy reading your interpretations and I need more of them HEHE)

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you!!!! <3333

I love thinking about how Alfred treats Dick more of a son than a grandson because their relationship is different from Alfred's relationship with the other kids. Furthermore, it also explains a bunch of his actions.

First of, I know when everyone saw that Alfred had left Dick his entire inheritance they went "What the fuck." There were a bunch of jokes and questioning about why Alfred would do that and a lot of people have wrote it off as Tom Taylor's writing. But here's the thing. Tom Taylor has done a lot of stupid stuff in terms of characterization but he's done quite a few things right and one of them was adequately explaining Dick and Alfred's relationship.

I don't know how many people can read cursive but it says, "I invested much of this wisely and ethically...In fact, I planned to come to you for advice. Like Bruce, your mind is astonishing. You are a problem-solver and the world is full of problems." (There's actually panel during one of Dick and Slade's fight I have saved so lemme know if you or anyone is interested in Dick's innovativeness and how it makes his a terrifying opponent.)

Let me pause right there. This is Alfred's life savings. It's every piece of penny he's saved and every minute of his life is in that money. On top of what he says about Dick's intellect-and I agree and can prove it-he must've loved and trusted Dick an extraordinary amount to do this.

Alfred goes on to say, "I couldn't think of better hands to leave this fortune in. I believe you will see this, not as a personal gain, but as an opportunity. Because I believe in Dick Grayson."

He continues praising him and- HERE IT IS- "I am so very proud to call you my son."

DICK IS ALFRED'S SON.

This is the cleanest, clearest panel where he explicitly says it.

Hold on-this is the cleanest panel that says it? Wait a minute, let me retract that:

"Master Bruce was my son for a while. And then there was you."

THIS MOMENT HAS BEEN BUILDING UP ON US FOR YEARS. Tom Taylor wasn't doing lip service, he was just writing the inevitable!

I swear there's a panel where Dick refers to Alfred as his dad...

*Record scratch* WHAT DID ALFRED CALL DICK? WHAT DID DICK CALL ALFRED?

THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM!!! THEY ARE GLORIOUS, BRILLIANT, UNDERRATED, AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE FULL EXTENT OF EITHER OF THEIR ABILITIES, LOVE, OR DEPTH OF EMOTIONS.

THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL.

Take the Ric Grayson arc for another example.

Background context: Dick-Ric-was sleeping on the counter and all of a sudden he was startled out of a nightmare thus accidentally ending up bumping into the guy next to him who was drinking. Of course the guy doesn't mind only because it's Dick but anyways, here Alfred makes his entrance. Another thing I love about about this interaction is this is one of the few times Alfred has ever admitted to being in the military. The only other time I can think of him openly saying that is when he's slapping Bruce around.

The worry in the man's eyes for his wayward son...when Bea is snarking with Dick about his tab Alfred decides to pay for him instead.

LOOK AT HIS EYES AS HE SAYS GOOD NIGHT! THE AMOUNT OF EMOTION HE HAS IN THEM IS PURE PERFECTION. THE MAN JUST WANTS HIS SON TO COME BACK.

Not to mention, Alfred adores Dick in a way he didn't even with Bruce.

"For a long time I would dread coming down to this dark hellhole. But the advent of young Grayson has forced an alteration in my attitude. The masters have made much progress in these few short months. I was opposed initially to the recruitment of the lad in Master Bruce's self-appointed 'War on Crime.' But I am prepared to admit my error. Master Richard has mad a difference for the better to our lives."

This is HUGE. Coming from Alfred, this is massive because Alfred LOATHES Bruce's "War on Crime." How much?

So much that he slapped Bruce bloody for it.

The pseudo-father and son beat each other to pieces over it. So after years of Alfred hating Bruce for what he's done, for him to say he only accepts it because of Dick-because of Dick's personality-is enormous praise and accomplishment.

Alfred loves Dick in a way he doesn't love anyone else. And before I get flamed by people for suggesting Alfred loves Dick more than Bruce, I want to say he loves Dick as much as Bruce but in a different manner. He doesn't see Dick as a grandchild who needs to be coddled and softened, he sees Dick as a son he can spoil and cherish.

Him paying off the tab was not only an act of kindness, but it mimicks the way a rich father gives everything to his youngest son. Bruce was the first born he raised but Dick was the baby of their family. This also ties in with how Bruce doesn't see Dick as just him son like he does with the others. To Bruce, they are just as much brothers as anything else.

When Bruce fires Dick from Robin after two-face, Alfred couldn't take it lightly. Dick wasn't just the light of Bruce's life, he was the fucking sun to Alfred's.

I started crying when I read this because the emotions and the pain he's feeling is so visceral. A man who has been MI5 and SAS (Special Airforce Service), who has fought wars, who has fought his son, lost his best friends, is breaking down alone at the top of the stairs over not having Dick as Robin.

You might think that's not all that sad. Worse things have happened. You're overreacting.

Tears are literally streaming down my face as I'm writing this review. Rudolph nose and ugly bloodstained eyes complete with it.

Can you ever imagine loving someone so much?

Crying in silence with a steady voice to never let them know your sorrow?

But sure, sure, he's cried when others were killed like this so I'll go into other special things.

Some of his best moments are with Dick:

The pure adoration in his eyes as he watches his young son go 'flap' 'flap' 'flap' with his older brother's too big cloathes.

He's laughing! Do you know the only times he laughs or grins like that?

That's right-with Bruce! With his other son.

With Dick, he laughs, gets angry, and actually shows interest in things not related to people's health. Dick humanizes Alfred.

Who is the only other person Alfred has gotten mad at? Oh yeah. Bruce.

There's another panel where Alfred just sits by his bedside holding his hand.

It's the little things that matter is a lie. When it comes to Dick, Alfred does things in fighter jet air shows level of affection which he learned just for this during his SAS days.

Their shared interests & mutual understanding

People always think Dick and Alfred have nothing in common between them. Dick is excitable, bouncy, and some other adjective while Alfred is calming, stoic, and butler-y. They actually forget that Dick and Alfred canonically bond of plays. Dick, as I said before, is a massive theater nerd. He loves plays. He really wanted to see that shakespeare play and Alfred said he would take him because he knows people there and then went on to complain about how his brother didn't even drop by to see him. I love their interactions because Dick brings out a different side to Alfred.

Das Rheingold was a German musical drama that was performed as a single opera at the National Theatre Munich. This is the link if you're interested in reading a short synopsis of this complicated play by the Metropolitan Opera. It's like a mix of "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Rings of Power."

Also the fact that Alfred is tying his tie like a father would tie his son's.

I know they make a crack out of it by using Bugs Bunny (Bugs Bunny is a fantastic cartoon! I grew up on it!) but Alfred knows that Dick loves opera and theater and is only asking if this particular play will suit his interests. Okay, great, we know Dick likes theater. You've said that and posted about it before. But how do we know Alfred likes it too and not just because he's British and posh and whatnot?

He has preformed at the London Theater, and this is another way he connects to Dick emotionally. When Dick complains about being Batman, Alfred is the one that tells him:

This is something Alfred understands about Dick that absolutely no one in the family does.

The two of them are show people. They know how to play the role they were given, and they know how to play it well. No one suspects Alfred the Butler of ruthlessly using firearms and no one suspects Dick the Light of the Universe to ruthlessly to manipulate allies.

Dick knows this about Alfred too and never presses for any answers. When Alfred's pulling out a bullet from Dick and performing high level medical techniques he should know nothing about, Dick asks him, "Where did you learn all this, Alfred." To which Alfred responds, "You would be amazed at what you can pick up by watching the Discovery Channel." Dick just gives a pained laugh retorts about his wonderful bedside manners.

They know.

What Alfred sees in Dick is a pure goodness that can't be emulated. He loves his son for how absolutely good he is and is devastated when Dick can't be with him. Of everyone, Dick is the one Alfred is closest to. Other members have their moments with him but no one continually seeks out his presence just for the fact they like him aside from Dick. The rest treat him as an important side character, not a parent. And Alfred responds to that devotion with overwhelming love of his own.

Alfred and Bruce's optimism comes bundled up in the form of Dick. It's stunning how it's always Alfred of all people who admits this. Alfred who isn't supposed to show favoritism or bias is the one that consistently acknowledges how important Dick is to the family and him. This solidifies the fact that Dick is Alfred's favorite.

Other moments that differentiate Dick and Alfred's relationship:

We're pretty familiar with this and many of us have laughed it off when Alfred scolded Dick (also Dick looks hot af here). But can you imagine even anyone else playfully mocking Alfred? THIS. BOY. IS. SPECIAL. Alfred doesn't even blink twice at the address, indicating how typical it is for Dick to act that way with him. You only do that to people you're best friends with.

Casual comfort, the two of them.

Dick and Bruce were brothers and how that ties into Alfred:

Adding to my "Light of Bruce's life" Robin Dick canon, Alfred told Dick that Bruce "would have self-distructed if he hadn't met me and learned responsibility. I made him laugh, and he was like the greatest big brother you could ever imagine...it was our town."

Bruce and Dick are so damn codependent.

Bruce would not have survived without Dick. That's all there is to it.

Robin Dick was the light shining through rain clouds, the glitter in the air, the angel with golden wings, the giggling sweetheart to Alfred and Bruce. He was sunshine, love, and joy and the men both adored, thrived, and cherished him for it.

And if Dick and Bruce were brothers then Alfred was Dick's father and he was Alfred's son.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 32

Make Your Bets Now!

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12,614 😳😳

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: A Forest ~ The Cure | Burn Your Village ~ Kiki Rockwell

Summary: The White Stag is chased through the woods. The hunters begin to show their true colors, while the prey just tries to survive. You might not be the only one running away.

Recap: The banquet is underway, and you were dressed as the White Stag. You met your nine suitors, some of whom came as a shock. You gave each hunter an arrow, a symbol of their right to claim you. Uncle Cedrick just gave you a ten minute head start.

Author's Note: Hi!!! Thank you so much for your patience while I've been dealing with all the things! I've still been writing, as you can tell by the word count! 😬 Lol, I did a poll way back when Shanks first arrived asking if y'all would prefer two regular size chapters with no smut in one, or one giant chapter with the smut. So here ya go, lol, you asked for it! 😅🤭

Content Warning: There's not much dark content to warn for this chapter (besides the usual Numbers Game shenanigans & Buggy's POV on the Dr. Vorsan visit), but I wanted to give a heads up that there is a flashback of the 14 year old reader having a crush on an adult. Nothing occurs, but there is some very mild creepiness that could be interpreted as inappropriate. I WILL NEVER write about minors in that way, so please know that this is just a teenage crush! In case you would like to skip that, I'll bracket it with these ~~~⚫~~~

Fic Updates & Questions:

I will be retroactively adding titles to all chapters. I prefer to have titles for every chapter of a fic, but decided not to add them when I thought this was going to be a one shot 🤦🏼‍♀️ (We're getting closer to the end, and outlining will be way easier if I can remember which chapter things happened in, lol.) I'm going with quotes/lines from the chapters for the title theme. Also, I only used "part" instead of "chapter" on tumblr for formatting space, but I always call them chapters so 🤷‍♀️

Since this is a reader insert fic (that I thought would be a one shot 😅), I've tried to keep as many personal details as vague as possible so that we can all hop onto that lovely, green couch. I'm not planning to state the reader's age within the fic, but as we get further into the story, some of you numbers girl's may be able to figure out the math based on the flashbacks and such. I have a whole ass timeline graphed out, so if anyone is interested in knowing the specific ages and dates of related OP canon and Numbers Game canon, I'd be down to make a separate post just for that.

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for the end of the Wano arc. As we get further into Egghead Arc, there will be some spoilers (mainly from manga cover stories or SBS questions for minor characters' motivations, such as what the Vinsmoke's and Charlotte's have been up to since Wano, and why they'd want to marry our lovely heiress.)

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Pain Kink, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Blowjobs, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I told you to run.”

Uncle Cedrick wet his lips after he hissed at you again, smirking while you transformed for him, and for his silent hunters and cheering guests. 

The white stag. The hunted. The prey. 

You’d never felt less human than you did right now, and the sense of danger in the air sent you racing toward the trees. 

It was disorienting to move in this fumbling body. Some foul magic must have stolen your hooves, your graceful limbs, your fur to fend off the cool breeze of the night. 

All you had left were your antlers, but they couldn’t help you flee. You escaped your heels, kicking free from the tight shoes as though they were traps meant to hold you still for the hunters to find. The dress made you panic, the weight of it wearing you down like trash left to suffocate creatures too helpless to free themselves from human garbage. You tried to lift the heavy skirts while you ran, but the train dragged behind you, catching on roots and branches as you fled. 

Logic started to break through the adrenaline in bits and pieces, but the forest had pulled you into a dream.

“This isn’t a dream,” you panted to yourself, slowing down to lean against a tree. 

That wild panic had left you with no idea how long you’d been running, but your heart was trying to escape from your body, and your lungs struggled to catch up as you let yourself stop. 

That should be enough drama for Uncle’s show. Why should I care who catches me first? I have to date all of them anyway. 

And the fear was back. 

Nine men were about to stalk you through the woods at night, and you’d just run deeper into the darkness, like a fucking idiot.

Though you doubted that staying closer to the courtyard would have made you any safer. All of those leeches were here to watch the show. They’d probably already placed bets on which hunter would get his greedy hands on you first.

Don’t cry. 

You almost did. Every time you thought you could accept your fate, Uncle Cedrick found ways to make it more torturous, more humiliating. 

Apathy tried to protect you, a welcome friend that lulled your emotions to sleep until you stared into nothing, your logical mind reciting your thoughts on a loop to distract from what you were putting away.

I already gave the leeches a good show. It doesn’t matter who catches me first. 

Useless rage replaced your apathy in a flash at the memory of the traitor touching your skin. Shanks was the last man you wanted to catch you, but Uncle’s threats felt like hidden traps, like suffocating trash, like this stupid dress that snagged on every branch. 

I won’t give them anything else to hurt me with. 

Crashes and yells entered the forest like a storm, and you were the white stag again.

You ran. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

Shanks had only been gone for a day, but the clown found himself aching for him in a way he hadn’t in years. 

Letting Shanks back in had opened the door to all this shit he’d tried to stuff away, but he didn’t have room for all of these feelings right now. Not when his star was slurring her words, her voice high and distant while she tried to convince this fucking doctor that all their time together had meant nothing.

“It was all pretend. I was bored. I know it was risky behavior, I s-see that nn…”

“I’m glad you’re expressing that awareness, Y/N,” Dr. Vorsan’s voice bore down even through her frantic heartbeat, “but you still haven’t talked about the clown. It’s important that we understand our triggers so that we can prevent future episodes.”

She’s not breathing!

“You don’t want to have any more episodes, do you, Y/N?”

“No,” she agreed, though Buggy barely heard her over her now ragged breath. 

“Good. Part of staying well means cooperating with your treatment,” the slimeball purred. “Why did you go with the clown?”

“He was sweet. And funny... I liked him.”

Buggy looked to the ceiling, unknowable emotions pulling his face into a grimace. 

“You just told me that it was all pretend. That you were bored.”

“I, yes…”

“Clarity, Y/N,” the pompous creep scolded. “We can’t make changes if we don’t acknowledge our patterns. Why did you go with the clown?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Buggy growled.

The next words he heard had to be from her lips, but it sounded wrong, as though she’d been possessed by the concept of emptiness itself. His star was hollow. 

Gone. 

“I used him. I wanted to run. I’m selfish.”

No, baby, don’t say that.

The fucker didn’t say anything for too long. He couldn’t hear any rustling, only his empty star, breathing just enough to keep her alive. 

“Your family was very worried for you. That extreme, self destructive behavior—“

“I know,” Y/N snapped, then Buggy heard the sound of skin against skin, as though she’d slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m s-s-sorry, doctor, I…”

“It’s quite, alright, Y/N,” the man fucking chuckled. “You’ve just experienced an episode that must have caused some additional trauma, but you’re safe now.”

Buggy hadn’t taken notes, and he looked down to find a shredded notepad on his lap, his shaky hands clenching into the paper. 

“Do you want to be safe?”

“Yes, doctor,” Y/N stated, the gravity of a black hole in her voice. 

“Was it safe to run away with pirates?”

What the fuck is he doing to her? 

“No.”

“Good. Now, tell me about the clown.”

Circles and circles of this talk spun through Buggy’s mind, and it seemed like nothing was said, yet he could hear his star break a little more with every word. 

“I’ll rip his tongue out, baby. Make him eat it for you. Don’t listen to him.”

“Excellent work today. Self reflection is difficult, but it’s the only way to heal.”

“Thank… Thank you, doctor.”

“There’s no need to thank me. You have the power to stay well all on your own, as long as you put in the work to take care of yourself. Just try to remember the kind of life you wish to have. You don’t want to lose yourself in another episode, do you, Y/N?”

“No, doctor.”

The clown laid in silence for hours while his broken lover did the same. Somehow Y/N built herself up again, preparing to head to dinner with her sister, and her voice was almost as clear as it had been before the session. 

She keeps all of this inside… I didn’t even—

“Come on, little clown. Don’t eat dinner on the floor again.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Emperor of the Sea followed an usher to his seat, feeling high as he twirled the decorative arrow in his fingers. He was lucky to have made it in time, and luckier still that Y/N had looked at him like that. Shanks was sure that it wasn’t really lust in those magnetic eyes of hers. Buggy’s fallen star was difficult to read, but it had to be a message. An opening. 

I’ll get you out of here, Y/N. 

Even Benn’s smirking face couldn’t diminish the flames she’d warmed in him, his first mate pulling his seat out while he approached. The last few tables at the edge of the courtyard seemed filled with guests that were either late or large, the nearest competitor being the two story tall Prince Fukaboshi. 

Before Shanks could greet his rival, Sylvad’s voice carried through the night air, testing the Emperor’s ability to fake a smile. 

“Thank you all for joining our family as we celebrate the hunt for a new member! I am honored to help strengthen the Sylvad legacy by making sure that my enchanting niece finds the most loving, and of course, the most profitable match,” he admitted with a smug laugh. “Just as this marks the beginning of a new era for our family, I’m sure that most of you have sensed the shift in the waters.”

Cedrick paused for effect with Y/N posed like some pretty doll at his side while his guests murmured in agreement.

“For generations, the Sylvad’s have stood in enthusiastic support of the Marines. Although I still pay them an exorbitant amount to show up when I call, their many recent failures, and acts of overreaching, have shown them to be nothing more than expensive, and exceedingly annoying guard dogs.”

The laughter he drew was mixed, both nervous and pleased, and Shanks was sure he wasn’t the only one to catch the threat in those playful words. 

“The world is changing, and I intend to keep my family strong, even if we have to shoo the seagulls away,” he vowed with enough humor to keep the mood light. “But enough about all that, we’re here to enjoy ourselves. Let’s welcome in the New Era together with a good old fashioned hunt!”

Confusion was clouded by the applause Cedrick had demanded with his gestures and tone after he offered Y/N a hand. Watching that man touch her had Shanks’ jaw clenching, holding himself back while she truly looked like prey under his smirking grin.

“I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Shanks watched in horror as Cedrick led his niece to the edge of the courtyard, speaking to her too softly to hear before she ran toward the trees, stumbling in that fucking costume he’d stuffed her into. 

Benn nudged his ankle, stopping Shanks from finishing his movement. Gryphon was on the ship anyway, and he wasn’t sure what use his sword would do other than to comfort his helpless soul.

I’m a villain now. Maybe I should just kill everyone here. 

He chugged the glass of wine in front of him, as though swallowing the liquor could help him swallow the layers of guilt that made no sense to him.

The bright light of that wounded star disappeared into the trees, but there was no reprieve. A large, white canvas was rolled out over the side of the manor walls while servants pushed a massive transponder snail on a wheeled cart up the path. The courtyard was silent until the snail’s eyes flickered, its mouth open as sounds of heavy breathing and snapping twigs came through before the live feed was projected. 

Two images appeared on that blank wall, bringing gasps and applause from the guests while Sylvad preened.

“In ten minutes,” he announced, doing a flourish as a timer popped up on the frantic screen, “the hunt for the white stag begins. The man that touches her first wins the hunt, and will earn the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the pleasure of dining with the lovely doe tonight.”

The lovely doe in question was panting as she kicked off her heels, running barefoot through the woods. On the left was a jostled scene of darkness and trees, but as she looked down to lift her skirts, it was clear that a cam snail must be on her head, maybe hidden in those antlers. The second image continued to flip, showing her running and struggling through the brush from endless angles. 

Does he have a surveillance snail on every fucking tree on this island?

“What a strange courtship custom,” Prince Fukaboshi noted quietly, although his size let the words carry enough for Shanks to let out a sharp laugh, smiling up at the merman to cover his anger before Sylvad continued.

“You may woo my niece however you like, so long as it doesn’t cause her unsalvageable harm, or remove her from this island. I won’t have my vacation home turned into a war zone, so do watch your violence. I know that some of you have had disagreements in the past, but let’s keep the fighting to a minimum unless it’s part of a game, alright lads? We wouldn’t want to spoil the fun for everyone.”

Leeches…

Servants came around to all the tables to take bets from the guests while the courtyard followed the white stag’s every, panicked step. 

Hawk was right, this security is something else.

“This isn’t a dream.”

“Aww, isn’t she a darling,” a diamond-studded, older woman crooned, inspiring more guests to make noises about how precious she looked while she caught her breath, eyes blank as she leaned against a tree. 

“You’re gonna catch that little bunny, aren’t ya, Captain?”

Shanks let out a breath, finally breathing, when he met his first mate’s gaze. Benn was steady, the curve of his lips and shine of his eyes hiding the intensity from those that didn’t know him, but his captain recognized the look. 

It’s time to get serious.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

Easy silence wrapped around the three men during dinner, interspersed with deep, hushed voices, and the scratching of Buggy’s pen while he doodled. He couldn’t help but feel thankful for the less noteworthy hours that had passed since his star had met with the doctor. 

“Zala checked in,” Crocodile reported between bites. “Guess she wasn’t suited to the restaurant business after all.”

“That’s Miss Doublefinger, yes?”

“Not anymore,” he sighed at Mihawk’s question. “Zala used to work well with Daz Bonez, and she’s investigating Dr. Vorsan. Refused to help without bringing Marianne along though… Ms. Goldenweek.”

“The child,” Mihawk questioned, giving a gentle tilt to his head. His lover seemed to get touchy when his old organization was brought up. 

“She’s eighteen now,” came the curt answer, although the larger man almost smiled at those damn, golden eyes. 

“Uncle ChodeTick’s talking to her, taking a walk,” Buggy reported, guilt cutting them off before they could get too flirty. The clown scribbled his notes, the easy silence less easy now. 

Mihawk’s lifetime of dedication to becoming the strongest did nothing for him now. All he could do was watch every subtle, pained expression on Buggy’s face while he suffered, the bravest of them all. 

“The agents are infiltrating the asylum the doctor runs when he’s not fucking with our girl,” Crocodile shared, his voice hushed. 

“Sending a teenager to infiltrate an insane asylum? You are ruthless, aren’t you,” Mihawk flirted lightly. He was learning this man, and for the first time he wasn’t making excuses about why. His tone paid off, and he smirked at the playful look on that scarred face.

“Marianne‘ll be fine, I’m sure she’s looking forward to art therapy. Plus, Zala will— what’s wrong, Buggy?”

The clown gestured for silence while his face went red with rage, listening to the rules, and the threats that her monster of an uncle was caging his star with. 

“FUCK!!”

The nearly empty plates and glasses went flying as Buggy flipped the table, his body shaking in every direction, unable to sit with himself for another second.

“I’m pathetic! I can’t help her. I can’t fucking do ANYTHING!”

Crocodile and Mihawk caught as many pieces of him as they could, and wrapped themselves around Buggy until he breathed again, holding most of his body between them. 

“Don’t say that, Buggy.”

“Shh, little clown. You’ve done enough.”

“He’s gonna make her…” Buggy barely managed to choke out the sound, glad that the asshole had left her alone already. One more word from his lips would have made the him explode. 

Her words were worse though. 

“She said she’s gonna fuck the ones she…” He cried out between their now stiff bodies. “He threatened her with… She has to…”

“She has to do what, Buggy,” Crocodile asked, amazed at how steady his voice was while he knelt down to meet the clown’s tired eyes. He kept his hand stroking along his side, that body slumping instead of flying apart now. 

He couldn’t say it, exhaustion making the clown sway against Crocodile’s touch before he floated his hand toward the mess he’d made of the table. Mihawk caught the notepad, his eyes going apocalyptic as he read over Cedrick’s “rules” for the games.  

The swordsman wanted to fly into violence and rage, to turn to ice, and make everything in his path disappear. 

But Buggy’s eyes made him pause, the words on the page having too many consequences, too much weight. 

“Buggy, she said this in anger, did she not? I doubt she’ll really—“

“You didn’t hear him,” Buggy snapped, starting to float and pace while Crocodile read the notes. The clown snatched the notepad off the floor after the scarred man dropped it, his hand shaking with rage. 

“He’s twisted,” Buggy continued.

“He’s dead,” came a rough voice, the fury of a sandstorm barely contained in that vow. 

“Yes, he is,” Mihawk promised as he reached for Buggy. He pushed that lovely, blue hair behind the remaining ear, almost smiling at the ear plug he found. “We will get her out of there, but we need you sane. If our little rabbit needs to take care of herself, we’ll find a way to keep you—“

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Buggy floated just out of reach, glaring down at the swordsman as though he’d started speaking some alien language. 

“You shouldn’t have to listen to that, little clown,” Crocodile soothed, resting his own rage when he realized what Mihawk was saying. “If it happens, we’ll make it loud over here so you can’t hear, or you could—“

“You want me to shove my fingers in my ears while her screams echo through the halls,” Buggy hissed. His anger was building up around him, heating the air, strangling any sense of peace from the room as those old words hit their mark. 

The two monsters under his glare froze, shame stunning them into silence. 

“You think I said I’d rather watch you fuck my star into oblivion just for FUN,” he seethed, his eyes going manic while he floated above them. “I’m a sick fuck, and ended up having flashy, old time, but that’s not why I had to watch.”

He was that frightening showman again, and they were drawn into his act. 

“I’m sorry, Bug—“

“I made myself watch while you took her from me,” he recalled in an almost sing-song voice that chilled the other men’s blood. “I watched and watched, because… I have to listen because…”

The crack in his own voice made him waver, dipping in the air a bit while he stared at the pained faces of these terrifying men. 

“What if they hurt her?”

Silence clashed with the cacophony inside their minds until Crocodile reached toward the clown again, gripping into his shoulder, and sending fear flashing through him while their faces grew closer. 

“We’ll kill them.”

“B-but–”

“Come on, brave, little clown,” Crocodile breathed over his trembling lips. “Why don’t you show me all your toys, huh? How many Buggy Balls would it take to blow up that whole fucking island if we need to?”

As they sighed, falling into the relief of distraction together, Mihawk sank against the wall, becoming nothing more than a threatening statue. He could have tried to grab onto the lifeline his lovers had just created, that comforting moment of camaraderie in violence while the clown indulged in and shared one of his favorite topics.

Yet, the swordsman couldn’t let it go. 

His little rabbit, forced to bed her captors again. 

She’s strong. She’s wicked. She’ll enjoy herself. Then we’ll get her back.

The fear that Y/N might enjoy herself enough to not want to return left Mihawk sick. He had to step outside, wandering down to the garden he’d barely thought of since she was no longer there to smell it on him. 

He found himself fisting into the dirt in that walled garden, huffing a laugh when he smelled the faint, sour scent on his fingers before wiping them on his pants. Red flashed in his mind, and the ex-Warlord sat in the dirt, wishing that love and trust were as simple to cultivate as the garden he’d been too preoccupied to plant. 

“I trust you,” Mihawk whispered to his red haired lover across the sea. The thought of how insufferable Shanks would be if he ever uttered those words in front of him brought a soft smile to his lips. “Please, bring her back. I need her by my side.”

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Time was a human construct, and as your ungraceful body ran like the prey he had transformed you into, you couldn’t tell how long it took for the yells and crashes to race toward you. 

Eternity. 

One fucking second.

A clearing appeared before you, but as you stepped into the open space, an impossible man filled up your world. He knelt down, still towering over you, and all the sounds of chaos in the forest faded while his crimson eyes asked for permission.

Katakuri reached for you, his massive hand outstretched, but he didn’t grab you. 

There was no way you could describe the subtle shift in those stunning eyes when you lifted your hand to take his, but they went wide before you made contact, his hand shooting out impossibly fast behind you. The giant of a man wasn’t fast enough, and cold fear poured through you before you had a warm body wrapped around yours from behind.

“I’ve got you, bunny,” Shanks purred, breathing a little hard as he pressed his lips against your ear. His arm was wrapped around you, holding you tight, as though you were a prize the others would try to tear from his grip. 

You wished they would.

“If we were allowed to wear our raid suits we would have–”

“Don’t complain, brother,” a taunting voice floated through the trees while Shanks looked you over, never taking his hand off of you while he guided you through the trees. “We’ll have plenty more chances. Our little bride likes being hunted, remember? You heard what the old man said about the Cross–”

A strange noise left your throat when Shanks bent down to wrap his arm under your thighs, lifting you up over his shoulder before running too fucking fast. Running until you saw the lovely lanterns again, until the courtyard came into view.

Your own bedraggled image was spread across the outer wall of the manor, the huge snail showing two screens that flashed through replays of your pathetic race and capture. It showed a few highlights of the hunters, including Shanks smashing through what looked like a wall of giant crackers, and Iceburg crawling on the ground in the wrong direction. Now they displayed various angles of the winner carrying his prize.

Shanks was surreal. No one cheered for the slab of meat he’d claimed, not when the Emperor of the Sea looked like some dark god of the forest, a hero bringing home a feast to his starving people.

The image had you closing your eyes, playing into the exhaustion so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“Red Haired Shanks, everyone,” Uncle announced as he slowed the audience’s applause, and you opened your eyes to find him beside you, leading your captor to the head table. “The emperor has earned the first private date tomorrow evening, as well as the seat of honor tonight. I hope everyone worked up an appetite.”

I’m not here.

Both men had their hands on you while they propped you up between them, and you faced the courtyard to find the ravenous guests practically drooling over the sight of your torn and dirty dress. Thankfully your back was to the screen, so you didn’t have to keep watching yourself stumbling through the dark. 

The stragglers made their way back, and your mind kept spacing, floating while your torturers chatted, until dinner arrived. 

Servants carried a long stretch of table over the stone path, “ooh’s” and “aah’s” making you more nauseated the closer it got, until they laid out the mythical beast before you. 

Your uncle had caught a white stag. 

He had caught it, killed it, and was laughing while its dead eyes stared at you, its useless antlers like some tragic centerpiece. Uncle Cedrick ordered its flesh to be passed to every plate, so that each of his friends might share in his auspicious meal. 

“Here’s to those with the heart of a hunter,” he toasted. “May your arrows always hit their mark.”

Every bite they took tore through your own skin, the slow prey gone still while the pack of wolves enjoyed their meal. An animal again, your mind was incapable of reason or words, but even the soul of the deer could feel this truth pulsing deep within the bones that the monsters hadn’t yet picked clean.

You would not survive this. They were going to devour you whole.

~~~

“Y/N? Sis? Are you okay?”

Some part of you that only existed for your sister reacted to the worry in her voice, blinking up at her while she carefully pulled the antlers off of your head. Another image of the deer’s mutilated body flashed through your mind as you watched her hold them to her chest before turning away, hurrying toward the door. You stared, thoughts thankfully leaving your mind while she threw the cursed antlers down the corridor.

“Are you okay,” she checked in again when she returned her gentle fingers to your hair.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, voice coming out raw. “Where is everyone?”

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” Kat assured. Her sharp eyes were wider than normal, but your urge to comfort her couldn’t break through your exhaustion, your delirium. “I didn’t think you’d want all the servants around.”

Gratitude swelled with the lump in your throat while Kat’s soft fingers transformed you, bringing you back to humanity. 

“I’m sorry he’s still such an asshole to you,” your sister breathed, starting to clean the scrapes that littered your legs and feet. “Running through the forest like… You’re getting married, not hunted. He didn’t need to make it so… I’m sorry.”

“Married,” you gave a tired laugh, closing your eyes before you went down the spiral. A hiss left your lips, your body jolting when she dabbed at a particularly unpleasant scrape.

“I’m going to call Dr. Gilli,” Kat announced, stopping you from digging your nails into your thighs. “No one else, and I’ll stay with you, okay?”

“No pills. No shots,” you ordered, too frantic to care about holding it in. 

“Of course not,” she sighed when your breathing started to calm. “I just don’t want to be responsible for your legs falling off from infection. Is that alright with you, sis?”

“Fine.” The slight teasing Kat had managed to put in her tone made your lips twitch, but that hint of relief took all of your energy. Your sister stayed with you, holding your hand while the family doctor looked you over.

Dr. Gilli had always been sweet to you, but the sight of your blood on her gloves while she gushed about how beautiful you looked, and how lucky you were to have such a romantic engagement, made you want to kick that sweet face in. 

“Thank you, doctor,” Kat frowned, shooing the woman out just in time before you punched her in the throat for asking you about babies. 

Kat helped you into bed, crawling in beside you like you were kids again. 

You used to be the big sister. Four years had always felt like such a big gap, especially with everything you had tried to protect her from. 

Until you couldn’t even protect yourself, and Kat had to become the big sister. 

Gratitude and guilt over that fact could never balance out, and as much as you loved her and needed her right now, you ached for her to leave so you could break down. 

Instead, slow tears stained your pillowcase while her comforting presence held you in a quiet cage. 

“It’s only a month,” she whispered while she stroked your hair. “We’re going to find the best husband for you, and then you’ll take over the company. I know it’s scary, but I believe in you, Y/N, just like dad did… I know you’re ready, and I’ll be right here with you.”

Kat’s misplaced trust froze you for what felt like hours, but somehow you fell asleep. Your name echoed through a storm while you watched the wolves tear into her flesh, helpless to keep your sister from the starving beasts.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

For a split second upon waking on the morning of the banquet, Buggy’s first thought hadn’t been panic for her absence, but a hum of pleasure at the warmth surrounding him. 

Guilt sent him flying into pieces to escape Crocodile and Mihawk’s arms, and they blinked up at him as though they’d forgotten her too. Buggy only relaxed when he saw the reality of the day harden their faces. 

Another day full of hushed voices, and waiting. Scribbled notes, and stifled comfort. Fear, and an unsteady hope that Shanks would be the hero again. 

~~~

“What’s this,” Buggy growled at the wide eyed, young pirate that had set down a bright blue cocktail on Y/N’s desk. He’d found himself sitting there tonight, updating the other men while the suitors were introduced, and he closed his eyes to stay focused on the muffled voices. 

The clown had started to panic earlier when his star was told to leave her locket behind, almost losing her because his gift didn’t fit the “theme.” She must have stuffed it into her dress from the way her heart thumped even louder within him, and he coughed to fight the heat in his throat.

I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.

“You like sweet drinks, don’t you?”

Buggy jolted, pretending that surprised squeak hadn’t just left his throat before he met Crocodile’s eyes across the room. 

“Y-yeah,” Buggy frowned, but he avoided the collection of garnishes and tiny umbrellas to take a sip from the curly straw. He found the taste of pineapple, coconuts, and sooo much sugar, covering up the rum that he most definitely needed. “Thanks.”

The scarred man raised a brow, and Mihawk’s soft chuckle from his own desk added to the shiver going up Buggy's spine.

They’re trying to distract me… 

“Thanks, daddy,” Buggy corrected, almost smiling at that frightening, but pleased face until her voice filled with hope.

‘Mr. Iceburg?’

“Mr. Iceburg,” he repeated while her heart went wild. 

“Iceburg,” Crocodile asked quietly, looking at his own notes. “From Galley La? He wasn’t on the list…”

“She knows him already,” Buggy reported. He tried to let it mean nothing. “She likes him.”

“Of course, Sylvad’s has had ties with Water 7 for generations,” Crocodile nodded, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“She may like him, but she loves you,” Mihawk startled him as he appeared beside her desk. “Don’t forget.”

“I’d never forget that,” Buggy snapped, sighing when wicked fingers teased over his tense shoulders, helping him focus.

He focused on her breath, her heart, while she met all the men vying to touch her, to take her. He focused on trying not to freak out the longer the night went on without hearing that familiar, heroic voice. Their best chance.

“Something’s wrong,” Buggy rasped, hardly hearing Crocodile's chair thump onto the new carpet over the deafening silence of his star forgetting to breathe. It seemed like her heart had stopped beating, until her uncle’s grating voice came through, and then it pounded like a bird smashing itself against a window to try to escape.

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor.”

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” Shanks charmed, his voice a miracle. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

“It’s Shanks,” Buggy shared, almost jealous of the relief that washed over their faces before he closed his eyes to the world again.

Shanks played the roguish pirate to perfection, and Buggy had no notes for his performance. Even muffled, Sylvad’s voice was clearly satisfied, eating up the Emperor’s words. 

“Red Hair made it? He’s a suitor?”

The soft questions ripped Buggy’s eyes open, and the relief he still saw there made him sick. 

“She hates him.”

“What do you–”

“Who does she–”

“She HATES SHANKS!” 

Buggy didn’t notice when he’d flown into pieces, but he floated erratically before them, trying to understand, trying to explain. 

“How… She didn’t say that out loud, did she,” Mihawk asked after a pause, studying his movements. 

“Why would she hate him,” Crocodile mused. His silver eyes stripped him down as he stepped too close.

“How the fuck would I know,” Buggy yelled, horror filling his veins at the way her heart seemed to fight itself in its cage. “This is how she sounds when she’s with Uncle ShitFuck, or that fucking doctor! She hates Shanks. She HATES HIM! What are we gonna do?”

“Shh, shh, darling,” Mihawk breathed, catching Buggy’s face in both hands while his body still flew through the air. “Y/N thought he was going to steal you from her. If she hasn’t forgiven him, then we’ll just have to find another way.”

“But she–”

Every floating piece of him stuttered in the air when cruel lips kissed his so sweetly. 

“I am long overdue for a hunting trip,” the swordsman teased over his skin, twisting those wicked fingers into his hair. “Having all three of us here is a waste. I’ll go thin out the competition.”

“No.”

The refusal was deep, yet gentle, and that scarred face towered over them both while Crocodile tugged at Mihawk’s chin. 

“We’re not doing that. We can’t go against her wishes, not until we know why she’s doing this.”

Buggy felt pain searing behind his eyes while he tried to listen to two things at once: Cedrick Sylvad’s speech, and the moral dilemma of these ex-Warlords.

“I agree,” Mihawk said evenly, barely sparing a glance while Buggy brought his body back together beside him. “But these men want our little rabbit, and her illustrious name for their own reasons. If it’s possible to convince the worst of them to drop out, then we should try.”

“Are you running away again,” Crocodile sighed, the pressure in the air making Buggy want to sink to the floor.  

“Don’t worry, daddy,” Mihawk purred, expertly slicing through all the tension in the room. “I have a spare earpiece snail, so you can scold me all you like while I’m away.” 

‘Did you hear me,’ Cedrick seemed to hiss at Buggy, swimming in guilt for falling into the distraction of the men before him. 

“Chase?”

“What is it,” Mihawk checked in, scanning his face. 

“No,” the clown paused, more endless horror pouring into him. He had to step away, the sounds of her panic while she raced through the woods sending him into helpless rage. The other men let him feel into it, until he rounded on them again. 

“They’re hunting her like an animal,” Buggy seethed, flinching at the sound of his star falling, panting, pushing herself on. “She’s terrified, she’s– Fuck this!”

A wave of sand hit the door before Crocodile blocked his path, only fueling that need to protect her. 

“Marines on call. Germa Kingdom. Big Mom Pirates. Fishman royalty. And we still don’t know what kind of security forces Sylvad keeps on the island, not to mention whatever the Concealer keeps around him, or the President of Galley La,” the larger man listed, his voice firm, but going soft when he touched Buggy’s cheek. “The second you hear our sweet girl ask for help, or say that she doesn’t wanna be there, I will drain them all to dust… but we still don’t know what he has on her. She told us she wanted to go.”

‘This isn’t a dream…’

In a trance, the clown let the other men lead him to that flashy, green couch, his notepad and fruity drink set up on the new coffee table while he slumped into her spot between them. 

“Shanks got her,” he reported, unable to share in their relief with the sound of her strangled breaths so loud in his head. He could barely hear a thing in her world now, the muffled voices beyond theirs were too difficult to make out, especially when another heartbeat filled his mind. His old friend must have been carrying her, and the sound of both of their hearts pounding so close made his gloves damp when he rubbed at his tired eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” Mihawk tugged at him gently until Buggy curled in against his exposed chest. The swordsman didn’t recoil from the faded paint, or the hot tears that streaked down his skin the longer the clown let himself stay there. “If our little rabbit doesn’t trust our hero, then we’ll just convince the rest of the suitors to give up the hunt.”

“Try not to start any wars, little prince,” Crocodile hummed, setting his massive hand over Mihawk’s where it was resting on Buggy’s thigh. 

“War is tedious. I am looking forward to a peaceful life,” Mihawk vowed, stroking Buggy’s hair while the man let exhaustion relax him deeper into his lap. “We just need to retrieve our lovers first.”

~~~🤡🤡🤡~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Oh sweetie, you look so–”

“Take a bite.”

Mom’s too shiny smile hardened slightly before she tasted your oatmeal, avoiding the servants that hovered around you in clouds of makeup and hair spray. 

“You’re about to have brunch with your suitors,” she reminded you when you snatched the food from her, practically inhaling it before more pencils or brushes could touch your lips. “Don’t you think it will look strange if you don’t eat with them?”

“You don’t seem to care how strange it looks to sell off your own daughter,” you laughed, noticing a servant’s eyes widen just a fraction when they took your empty bowl. “I’m cooperating, but I will not be leaving my food or drinks unattended until I feel safer. You want your child to feel safe, don’t you, mother?”

“I found some,” Kat beamed when she barged through the door, waving a deck of playing cards above her head. She tossed it to you, and you gasped, surprised that you caught it from the air before it could hit one of the staff. Thankfully, the full skirted dress you’d been stuffed into this morning had pockets, so you tucked your little game away, forcing your mom to taste the rest of your breakfast before the brunch dates began.

But Kat was making that face. Little sister face. 

“What’s that,” you gestured toward the item she had tried to conceal when she sat across from you, tucking it behind her body.

“Just some trash I found in the hall. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Give it,” you ordered, giving her big sister face.

“It’s nothing we didn’t already know, okay? So just…”

“At least I’m not the only one being used,” a sharp laugh left your throat. “How much berry do you think he’s making off of this game?”

Mom ordered the staff to leave before leaning toward Kat, and didn’t whisper quietly enough on her way out.

“Brunch is about to start. Make sure she looks presentable.”

“Can’t sell me off if I'm not pretty, can you?”

“Y/N,” she started, looking convincingly hurt, but Kat got her out of the room before either of you could make it worse. 

You stared at the “trash” in your lap, the crisp scent of expensive ink and paper filling your lungs while you examined the brochure. 

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

That tantalizing question was scrawled across every page, while the nine suitors each had their own section, their profile, their face, and a stupid little quote about winning you. This barbaric game was disguised behind a snooty font spread over images of dappled sunlight through Sylvad trees, and decorated with arrows and leaves.

Cedar leaves.

You wanted to tear it to shreds, but you were pulled in, studying every detail.

~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Giberson

Age: Couldn’t Recall

Height: Misplaced Measurements

Birthday: August 14th

Title: “Warehouseman”

Favorite Food: Rye Whiskey

How he plans to win: “I’m sure the lovely lady and I will have a delightful time. You don’t get to be my age without learning a few tricks.”

~

Ichiji

Age: 21

Height: 186 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Strawberries and Whiskey

How he plans to win: "I’m a Vinsmoke."

~

Niji

Age: 21

Height: 185 cm (6'1")

Birthday: March 2nd

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Blueberries and Scotch

How he plans to win: “She’s coming with us. If I don’t win, there’s two more Vinsmoke’s.”

~

Yonji

Age: 21

Height: 194 cm (6'4")

Birthday: March 2

Title: Prince of the Germa Kingdom

Favorite Food: Green Peas

How he plans to win: “I wouldn’t mind ending up with a woman like her, so I’m gonna turn her into a princess.”

~

Iceburg

Age: 40

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: January 3

Title: President of the Galley-La Company, and Mayor of Water 7

Favorite Food: Curry Made by an Old Friend. A Drunk, Old Friend.

How he plans to win: “Mm, well... I suppose I’ll win because I know her best.”

~

Fukaboshi

Age: 24

Height: 604 cm (19’10”)

Birthday: February 4th

Title: Prince of the Ryugu Kingdom

Favorite Food: Abalone Steak

How he plans to win: “I hope that she carries peace in her heart. If she does, I will stop at nothing to earn her love.”

~

Cracker

Age: 45

Height: 307 cm (10'1")

Birthday: February 28th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Biscuit

Favorite Food: Biscuits. Dislikes Kimchi and Carbonated Drinks.

How he plans to win: “Easy. I’ll outdo them all.”

~

Katakuri

Age: 48

Height: 509 cm (16'8½")

Birthday: November 25th

Title: Sweet Commander of the Big Mom Pirates, and the Minister of Flour

Favorite Food: Doughnuts. Dislikes hot ramen.

How he plans to win: “I will win because I must.”

~

Shanks

Age: 39

Height: 199 cm (6'6")

Birthday: March 9

Title: Emperor of the Sea

Favorite Food: Kimchi Fried Rice and Lobster. Dislikes Blueberries.

How he plans to win: “Just gonna show the cutie a good time.”

~~~~~~

‘Make Your Bets Now!’

Kat was right. You knew that the audience was enjoying the game, gambling while you just tried to survive, trying to secure the least abhorrent future that you could. 

“Venison…”

“Heeyyy,” Kat fumbled through positivity as she pulled the brochure from your white-knuckled grip. “At least we know how tall they are now!”

“I love you,” you thanked her, amazed that you could still laugh.

~~~

“Such pretty, little fingers… I hope I pass your test.”

“It’s not a test,” you lied, shuffling cards instead of tearing the old man’s eyes out. “Just a game.”

“It has to be the Queen of Hearts,” Giberson winked over his Bloody Mary.

“It’s the Four of Diamonds.”

“So you are choosing the next winner,” he scolded lightly when your prediction was revealed.

“How could I possibly choose when I have so many charming options,” you reminded him as you pushed the deck across the table so he could shuffle for himself. You weren’t ready to pick and choose between these hunters. There’d been no time to feel them out. 

So they had to guess.

The lighthearted brunch felt anything but with so many eyes on your skin, especially with Uncle’s giant projector snail that blew up your image across the building again. All the smaller snails circled around you, their slow, unreal eyes reminding you how trapped you were.

Always trapped.

“That’s alright, dear. Making decisions is tough, isn’t it? I’ve been hearing about what a smart girl you are though! So, what’s the card?”

The old man’s condescension was so typical, you were contemplating rooting for him, just so you could end up with a predictable partner.

“Jack of Hearts,” you smiled after counting down twenty two cards out loud, yet again.

“Whew, that sure is something,” Giberson waved the Jack of Hearts he’d revealed, making sure the rest of the guests could see while he bragged about you, as though your skills were somehow reflective of his own talents. 

As though he already owned you.

“You shuffled,” you teased, guiding him to set up the trick one more time. “Can you guess the card?”

“Queen of Hearts,” he winked again.

Gross. At least he might die soon, that’s a plus.

~~~

“You look beautiful this morning, Y/N,” the firstborn Vinsmoke brother purred when he took Giberson’s seat. 

Every moment was on full display for the other suitors, and for the guests that had stayed on the island for the entertainment. It seemed that the courtyard was to be your new realm, with plenty of space for your much taller dates to join you at your little breakfast table that was set up on a slightly elevated platform. 

A stage. 

“Thank you, Prince Ichigi. You’re looking quite well yourself.”  

Fuck.

It wasn’t a lie, and your pulse sped at the smug smile he gave when he tilted his head down to examine you over his dark, red glasses. 

There was something dangerous in that smile, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it made you pause, not sure how best to deal with this entitled prince.

“What does our lovely bride enjoy when she’s not being chased,” Ichiji purred, already claiming you with his words. His sunglasses did little to hide his eyes as they raked over your skin. 

“I enjoy numbers. Mathematics,” you almost squeaked. Heat rose up to your cheeks while you started to shuffle the cards, noticing the number “1” embroidered on his maroon cloak while you explained the goal of the card trick. 

“Seven of Clubs.”

“I’m sorry, Prince Ichiji, you’re wrong again.”

You had to risk a small sip from your untested water glass to fight the dryness on your tongue.

“That’s alright,” Ichiji teased, nodding at the sound of bells marking his time. “That’s why my family always brings numbers.”

“My turn, brother,” the blue haired prince announced as he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Be nice to our little princess, Niji,” he ordered, pressing your knuckles to his lips before heading back toward the rest of his family. 

“Of course,” your new date smirked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind that blue head of hair. 

The large spikes and swoops of his hairstyle covered one of his eyes under his gold sunglasses, hiding one of the eyebrows that you kept trying not to glance at. The three brothers shared an odd curl to the ends of their brows, You couldn’t tell if it was a cosmetic choice, but didn’t want to risk insulting such powerful men in case they were sensitive about it.

“Don’t tell me my brother already wore you out,” he clicked his tongue, snapping you out of your memories. 

“I’m so sorry, Prince Niji, I must still be tired from the banquet. What were you saying?”

“Fetch our little bride some coffee,” he snapped at the nearest servant, banging lightly on the table until the dishes rattled.

His harsh tone was almost enough to make you forget your precautions, but you had enough to worry about without the uncertainty of who prepared your drink.

That curly brow raised with satisfied surprise when you rested your hand over his, his lips parting while he ate up your act.

“Would you mind sharing your coffee, Prince Niji? I’d hate to waste any more of our time waiting to wake up.”

“What’s mine is yours, princess,” Niji purred. He caught your hand as you pulled away, and you let him hold it while you drank from his mug. His coffee was unbelievably sweet.

Stop. Don’t think about…

“Thank you,” you hummed, swallowing the heat in your throat while you tried to not to look at his blue hair with that practically syrupy coffee still on your tongue. “Will you help me with a little trick?”

~~~

“It’s up to you, little brother,” Niji reported when his time ran out. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve been watching these pretty hands,” Yonji assured him, kissing your fingers before he sat down. His dark eyes seemed fierce without colored glasses to hide them, and his green hair was slicked back instead of swooping up and out like his older brothers. He wasn’t hiding his interesting features.

“So you think you know the trick,” you challenged, giving him a chance. 

“I think I’ll win your heart,” he swooned, and the sappy look on his face made your hands fumble while you shuffled the deck. 

He focused intently now as you laid them out, and revealed certain cards, counting down to the guess. 

“What card is—“

“Three of Spades,” he blurted out. “What’s your guess?”

“Three of Clubs.”

“Again.”

The youngest prince refused your small talk, avoiding your gaze until his final guess.

“King of Hearts,” Yonji beamed, puppy dog eyes finally on your face again. “What’s your guess, princess?”

Would it be weird to marry Kat’s favorite?

You didn’t glance at your sister, but knew she’d be watching while the green haired prince scored the first point, hearts practically floating around his head when you revealed the card. 

“I told you, princess,” Yonji vowed as he stole a quick peck to your cheek. “I’ll be the one to win your heart.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~⚫~~~

The man that had won your heart beamed when he saw you gazing up at him. His blue hair seemed to glow in the sun, but nothing could gleam like those strong arms, slick with sweat while he climbed down the ropes to meet you on the deck of the ship.

“Oh my, look at you,” Iceburg hummed, tying a bandana over his hair to catch that salty water before it dripped down his face. You stared at those gorgeous, purple tattoos that crawled down his shoulders and arms before he patted the top of your head. “Where’s your dad hiding?”

“He had to take a call, but I helped him write this proposal, so he said I could bring it to you,” you blushed, handing him the file.

“He’s got you working at thirteen,” he whistled, taking the document while he shook his head. 

“I’m fourteen now,” you declared. 

You couldn’t keep yourself from rolling onto your toes a bit, lifting your chin in hopeful challenge. 

“You’re gonna be running things soon, huh,” he smirked.

Mind going absolutely blank under his attention, you just gaped at him like a fucking creep.

“This ship’s almost finished.” Iceburg leaned close, knocking on the railing behind you. “Would you like a tour? It is your family’s wood that makes it so strong, after all.”

“I– Are you sure? I’ll be fine waiting if you need to get back to work. You don’t need to watch me.”

The desire to follow him around like a puppy was overpowered by the distaste at him feeling the need to babysit you, but the look on his face made you laugh, forgetting it all.

“I don’t wanna go back to work,” the handsome shipwright complained, scrunching up his face in a pout that rivaled your sister’s. “I’d rather show you around, and grab some lunch when your dad gets here. Can we?”

“Okay!”

~~~

This gorgeous, lovely man knew more about Sylvad wood than most of dad’s executives. Listening to him talk about it always made you happy, knowing that your family was part of something so important, so loved. 

Iceburg led you through the ship, telling you how he had worked each piece of lumber, how it all moved with the wind and the waves, even guiding you to slide your hand along the trees your family had grown, smooth and silky to the touch after he’d treated them. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it,” he praised softly, watching your hand against the wood before pulling a pen from his toolbelt. “Well, let’s go get some food, girlie. You can tell your dad what a great job you did presenting your proposal.”

“But you didn’t even read it,” you blurted out, shocked when he pressed the document against a wall to sign his name.

“You and Arbo are good people, plus you’ve got the best lumber in the world,” he laughed while he led you up the stairs toward the sound of footsteps. “I trust you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Iceburg… but you just agreed to build a small fleet to expand our shipping operations in the East Blue. Are you sure you’ll have time for that while you help Tom finish the sea train? Hi, daddy!”

“There’s my girl,” your dad grinned, kissing your temple when you joined him on the deck. “Make any deals without me?”

Iceburg handed the document over, waving his own copy in your direction. Your skin flushed with heat again when he snuck you a wink while your dad glanced at his signature. 

“She’s very convincing. You’ll be able to retire in no time if she keeps this up.”

He was the perfect man. Strong, kind, silly, sweet, and so painfully hot, it drove you mad. You’d had a few crushes on your classmates over the last couple of years, but nothing compared to the way you felt when Iceburg looked at you like that. 

“I don’t doubt it,” your dad praised. He wrapped his arm around the shipwright’s shoulders, nodding his head toward the docks. “Is Kokoro still making that delightful curry?”

“I’ll never let her stop,” Iceburg laughed while he led the way. “Tom should be over there too, let’s go grab some lunch and catch up.”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want to come, sweetheart?”

~~~⚫~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

He’s not who I thought he was. He’s a creep. Another leech trying to latch on and drain as much berry from me as he can. Don’t forget. 

You were pathetic, getting flustered while he watched your hands, his calm voice taking away all your caution. 

“I have to apologize,” Iceburg hummed while you shuffled.

“Why is that?”

“Mm, well,” he looked down at his striped jacket while he patted his pocket. “I left Tyrannosaurus with my secretary. I didn’t think bringing a pet would be… I should be more focused on you.”

“What do you— oh!”

The cards scattered across the table when you jumped, laughter sneaking out of you. 

“This is Velociraptor,” Iceburg announced as a field mouse crawled out of his breast pocket. “I found him during the chase, I hope it’s alright to have pets during our stay. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine, sorry,” you recovered from losing yourself in that laughter before gathering the cards again. Your eyes were still watering when you watched the cute creature dive back into his pocket after a few soft pets from his strong fingers. “Can you guess the card?”

“Oh my,” his brows furrowed, watching your waiting hands. “I really need to pay attention, don’t I? I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

He leaned forward, his height making him tower over you at the little table, and you found yourself blinking up at him.

Forgetting.

“I…”

“Is it the Seven of Clubs?”

“No, Mr… No, Iceburg.”

~~~

Prince Fukaboshi was led through the courtyard by a few attendants, both fishmen and mermen featured amongst the group. He looked down at you, mouth opening to speak before Uncle’s voice carried over.

“Why don’t we give our hunter a closer look?”

Grabbing onto the edge of the table took all of your focus, and you knew that your fake smile fell when you started moving through the air. The ground flew away, the wooden platform beneath you rising up toward the prince, gentle surprise on his face.

The snails on the table didn’t seem phased by the change in elevation, and it was hard to pretend they didn’t exist while they slowly shifted positions to better capture you and your date for the audience below. 

You decided not to look down to determine what kind of contraption had lifted you so high, instead looking at the prince before you. Fukaboshi took up your entire field of vision, and it was easy to see the concern on his expansive face.

“Are you alright, Miss Sylvad?”

His teeth look so sharp…

“Please, Prince Fukaboshi,” you trembled, focusing on the cards as much as you could, “call me Y/N. Can you guess the— oh, I’m sorry, are you familiar with these sorts of playing cards?”

You were barely hanging on. He spoke, he guessed, and you could feel the rumble of his voice even though your mind wasn’t quite letting it in. Your body performed without you, your lips reciting words that carried no meaning. 

“This courtship custom is unlike any I have seen before,” the prince frowned while you set up the cards for the last guess. “Since it is all strange to me, I couldn’t be certain, but…”

The pause was long enough for you to meet his eyes, so large, and filled with what looked like compassion. 

No. 

“Miss Y/N, I am seeking your hand so that my people can gain protection and resources so that they never suffer the cruelty and humiliation of slavery again,” Fukaboshi declared. The snails on the table lowered their eyes, but his voice boomed too loud to hide. 

Bells. 

“That is—“

“I never want to see anyone treated the way my sister was by those monsters at the Reverie.”

“Monsters?”

The dangerous question barely made it past your lips before the platform jolted, slowly bringing you down, away from his determined face while the bells kept ringing. 

“Are you being held against your will? I cannot abide another moment of this if you are being used like a pet for their amusement.”

“N-no,” you panicked, craning your neck to see him while you shook your head, hands pleading, voice dripping with lies. “You are so kind, thank you, Prince Fukaboshi! I’m sorry, I must seem scared, but I’m just nervous. This is all a bit overwhelming, but I promise I am glad to be here!”

“Your turn’s over, Prince. You heard the girl.”

Cracker’s manic smile appeared as the table sank to the ground. It felt like your frantic heart had been left in the sky, floating up there with those huge, concerned eyes. 

“Thank you, Prince Fukaboshi,” you beamed, feeling forever selfish at the temptation. 

I can’t risk a stranger, a whole kingdom. I’m not worth it. 

Neither of us would make it out alive anyway. 

“It has been my honor,” he said evenly, though his eyes were scanning the crowd now, a new tension held within his enormous, warrior’s body. 

The snails woke up, those slow moving eyes reminding you that the show must go on.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” 

Cracker sat down, and the platform probably should have lifted a bit as the shirtless man was closer to your reality, but he was still even taller than… 

You had to stop comparing these men to your daydreams. 

“Eight of Diamonds… Damn,” he brushed off his loss before looming over you. His dark, brown glove was softer than you expected it to be when he cupped your cheek, almost the whole side of your face. 

“You understand family duties, don’t you?”

All you could do was nod under the wild look he gave you.

He’s fucking unstable.

“That’s good. Family is everything.”

Is he flirting? 

A dangerous giggle almost escaped, but you kept it in, smiling sweetly while he failed every guess.

The bells finally rang out, but they couldn’t save you from his last words, his promise.

“Our family needs you, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re my wife or my sister, I’ll protect you with my life.”

~~~

This time you were grateful for the moving platform, a reason to look away from Cracker’s confident face. The true reason for the movement came into view, his brother waiting patiently for you to settle just below his eye level. 

Those eyes… 

Charlotte Katakuri was too fucking tall. Too fucking scary. Crimson eyes assessed you, his arched brows and sharp nose not nearly harsh enough to distract from those thick, dark lashes of his.

He’s too fucking pretty.

Now that you were this close, you could see scars on both of his cheeks. They led down toward his mouth, still concealed by that massive scarf. Prince Fukaboshi’s sharp teeth came to mind when you wondered what he could be hiding, so you shuffled and shuffled, trying to think about anything else.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” his polite voice made you shiver, seeming to vibrate the elevated stage you were perched on. 

“Same to you, Katakuri,” your voice shook. You couldn’t afford to show this much fear. Predators always looked for weak prey. “Would you mind helping me with a little trick?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he agreed. There was no way to tell if the hint of a smile you heard in his voice was truly hidden beneath his scarf, but it set you on edge, nonetheless. 

“Can you guess the card?”

“It’s the Ten of Hearts.”

He stated it as if it were true, as if he were simply remarking on the weather around him.

And it was true. You’d known it before you revealed it, this simple math trick like the comforting rhythm of a familiar heartbeat. 

“You’re right,” you breathed when you turned it over. “Care to go again?”

Katakuri nodded slowly, but his eyes never left your face, ignoring the cards on the table until you asked for his next guess.

“The Queen of Hearts.”

“Yes. Have you seen this trick before?”

“In a way,” came his cryptic response. “Shall we go again?”

He definitely wasn’t paying attention to the cards. Those stunning eyes were so fucking intense as they bore into your skin that you almost forgot to do the math before you asked for his next guess.

Then you wished you had forgotten.

“What’s the–”

“Shuffle again.”

“But you haven’t–”

You stopped breathing when one of his giant hands shot toward you, his fingers sooo fucking big when he laid them over yours. 

Delicate. This giant was gentle when he covered your hands, covered the cards, practically covered half the little table.

“This card makes you sad,” he whispered, though there was no point with all the surveillance, and with his booming voice at the center of attention. But still, he whispered. “Why don’t you shuffle again?”

Fuck. fuckfuckfuck. Stop. 

There you go. Just smile. 

A small miracle let you slip out of your body, out of your mind, while you shuffled the unrevealed Six of Spades back into the deck. 

Katakuri was still quiet, still watching. So polite while he guessed the right card, letting you pull yourself back together.

Hiding all the struggle behind your Sylvad smile.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he touched your hand again when the platform started to lower. “I’m looking forward to our next meeting.”

You hadn’t noticed the bells.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🐊🤡🗡️~~~

“When are you leaving?”

“There’s no point in waiting,” Mihawk avoided the larger man’s eyes. “The sooner I convince the competition to back out, the sooner Y/N will be free of them.”

“Yeah, but how,” Buggy sighed from his lap, the swordsman’s skilled fingers nearly dragging him down to sleep already. “How the fuck are you gonna convince these assholes that they don’t wanna marry her? She’s perfect! Plus, they get in on that stupid company, and get whatever other bullshit DickHole is selling. What can you do besides poke ‘em with your fancy stick?”

“That’s what I plan to find out,” Mihawk smiled, though the finality in his tone was enough.

“Come on, Buggy,” Crocodile nudged his legs aside, offering the clown his hand while he stared at their determined lover. “Let’s remind our little bird why he should fly back home when he’s done pecking people’s eyes out.”

Buggy let out an exhausted giggle while Mihawk shivered, his eyes rolling back just a bit. Just enough.

“You thought you could run away that easily, huh,” Crocodile threatened with his words, and with the tip of his hook below that sculpted chin.

More guilt almost tore the clown away while he watched them, but Buggy chugged his sugary drink, grateful for the quiet of faraway sleep. He started to pull the swordsman up by the collar of his frighteningly fancy jacket, and that arched brow was an instinctual warning.

The clown heeded the warning, loosening his grip on the jacket, only to yank the man off the couch by his hair. Crocodile joined in on his smug laughter, roughly pulling Mihawk against him before he’d stopped moaning from the unexpected pain.

“You’re not leaving tonight.”

Heavy. 

Whatever they held between them felt heavier than either had expected.

“I’ll go get the bed ready,” Buggy sighed as he half floated toward the door, “but I’ll need another drink if you guys take too long.”

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

“Are you alright?”

Mihawk laughed at the question, and Crocodile wanted to shake him. He was sick of seeing his lovers fall apart right in front of him, with nothing he could do, or even understand.

He ached to understand this man. They had faced each other in battle just a few years ago, but that Summit War felt like a fever dream now.

Not that this new life didn't feel like a dream.

This man…

Crocodile kept getting him. Meeting him in ways that both surprised, and soothed him. 

Mihawk laughed again at the thought of new vocabulary, but Crocodile pulled him close.

“I’m not ready to lose my business partner,” Crocodile confessed, the words too heavy for the smirk he tried to give. 

The words were enough.

Mihawk laid his deadly fingers along that silk vest, silently asking for a kiss while he stared up at the taller man. 

The swordsman felt like a fraud. 

How could someone like him that had carried nothing for so long be filled with so much? He didn’t want to lie anymore than he already had. 

Crocodile gave him what he wanted. A heavy kiss.

“Let’s not keep our clown waiting,” Crocodile rasped, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s sharp features. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~~🗡️🐊🗡️🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

They’re holding hands… 

Crocodile and Mihawk had called through the door, all of their hands occupied until Mihawk handed the slack-jawed clown another cocktail. 

“Nice room service,” Buggy tried to recover. 

“Come here, little clown.”

The scarred man let go of one lover to reach for another. Cupping his hand along Buggy’s jaw, with those large fingers combing into the hair at the back of his neck, Crocodile breathed down on him until he was nodding, red lips still parted.

“I haven’t been giving you enough attention,” Crocodile purred, squeezing his face lightly when Buggy tried to argue. “But it looks like we’re gonna have plenty of alone time soon. Plenty of time for me to spoil you.”

“Y-yup! Lots of…”

“Is that what you want?”

“Sure, whatever you say, bos— Yes, daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Buggy disconnected at the ankles to float up into Crocodile’s deep kiss. He nearly spilled his drink before the larger man lowered him down again, eyes dark and satisfied while he watched his clown. 

“You deserve more attention, but you handled him so well. Help me remind—“

“Let’s fuck him up, daddy!”

Buggy downed his drink with one hand while the other snuck past Crocodile’s body to wrap around Mihawk’s throat. 

“You do know that I’m still Dracule Mihawk, don’t you?”

Wicked fingers dug into the floating hand, dragging it down his own chest while he resisted. 

“Whatcha gonna do, Hawkeyes? Stab me? Slice me,” Buggy laughed, setting down his glass before sending his other hand. 

Crocodile started to undress, chuckling softly at his boys. 

The air shifted as danger, delicious danger, poured from the swordsman while he leaned into Buggy’s touch, forcing his floating hands closer to his own body with every taunting step.

“I’m going to play.”

Mihawk’s golden eyes seemed to flicker with his threat, and Buggy felt a flash of fear, a glimpse of a beast. In that moment, he almost gave in, almost let the beast win.

Wherever his burst of confidence came from, Buggy went with it.

“Why don’t you play with daddy’s balls then, huh, crybaby?”

One of the clown’s hands broke free from that hold, and Mihawk couldn’t fight the moan that tore through him when gloved fingers ripped into his hair again, forcing him to look at Crocodile. The larger man was so very large, stroking himself while he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Gods, that fucking cock.

Buggy took advantage of Mihawk’s wonderment by kicking the backs of his knees until he hit the floor, and wrapped himself around the swordsman’s back to leave lipstick-stained bites along his neck. 

“Don’t lie. You wanna get fucking wrecked, don’t you?”

“I don’t like liars,” Crocodile teased, circling his thumb over his tip, taking in a quick breath of satisfaction at the desperate look on Mihawk’s face at the sight. “Do you want us to wreck you, little prince?”

Mihawk melted as that lovely hook pressed into his throat. Buggy rubbed himself against his back, and the swordsman laughed, feeling entirely fucking spoiled. 

“Please, daddy.”

What a fucking sight… 

The scarred man still couldn’t understand how these lovely men were somehow his, not after everything he’d done, everything he’d felt before. Watching Mihawk beg so sweetly while Buggy stripped him made Crocodile’s cock so hard it almost hurt, his rough fingers easing up against that sensitive flesh, until wicked fingers, wicked lips, replaced his own grip. 

“Fuck. Such an evil little mouth you’ve got– Shit…”

Buggy realized his own mouth was hanging open as he undressed, but he couldn’t care to close it while he watched Mihawk swallow more than looked humanly possible.

“Help me out, Buggy,” Crocodile groaned while he gripped Mihawk’s hair, his hand bobbing up and down with that pretty face. “Stretch out our filthy prince for me. No way he’s leaving here before I ruin that perfect, little ass.”

Sloppy, muffled whines escaped him, and Mihawk’s eyes rolled at the daunting threat. Buggy was there, lubed, and ungloved fingers fucking into him until he shook with need, with pleasure. 

“Get over here,” Crocodile growled, stepping back to yank Mihawk toward the bed by the hook around his neck. Buggy helped him along, floating hands lifting that moaning form into place. 

Mihawk’s place was on his hands and knees in the center of the bed, and he lost himself there in the tender and vicious touches his lovers showered him with. In their praise and teasing, pleasure and pain. In the taste of Buggy’s skin as he shoved his cock down his throat. 

He absolutely fucking lost himself when Crocodile lined himself up. He was the world’s greatest swordsman, and he enjoyed pain a great deal. Yet his former enemy was about to pierce him so thoroughly that Mihawk whimpered around Buggy's length, almost afraid. 

Then he felt nothing but that heavy cock, stretching, and claiming, and filling him until tears streamed from his golden eyes.

“So good, so fucking good for me,” Crocodile grunted. He dragged his hook down Mihawk’s side, still not believing what he was seeing. 

Dracule fucking Mihawk, moaning around a clown’s cock while his pretty, little hole sucked him in again and again. 

“Let’s give our twisted prince what he wants, eh, Buggy? Make sure he remembers where he belongs.”

Buggy stuttered in agreement, nearly gone before he obeyed. He tore at Mihawk’s hair while his other hand scraped brutally down his back. The twitching that his rough hands caused forced his cock even deeper until he spilled his pleasure down that desperate throat.

Crocodile sliced his hook around the swordsman’s body, pouring red from that perfect chest while he stuffed his little prince full. The overwhelming sensations had Mihawk coming harder than he’d thought possible, and the sounds he made were unreal. Pathetic. 

Music to the ears of his sated lovers. 

The clown didn’t need to be ordered or asked, Buggy just helped Mihawk stay steady while they pulled out of him. So many praises showered them both while the swordsman just breathed, assessing his every, vicious ache. 

Crocodile hated to leave for even a moment, but he didn’t need to worry. Buggy’s hands had already flown to the bathroom to wash themselves, spilling a bit of soap on the counter before grabbing what he needed. When Crocodile returned from the shower, Buggy was still wiping the other man clean, humming while he trailed gently over that perfect skin. 

Mihawk’s skin was littered with scars of battle and lust, of trust, and he had just enough energy for a weak smile as Buggy’s fingers danced over them all. He moaned, twitching in those gentle arms while his lovers washed him in the shower, no way to recover this soon. 

“Don’t whine, crybaby,” Buggy mumbled, too focused on cleaning and bandaging his wounds while Mihawk melted into the burn. “We’ll slice you up some more when you get back.”

“He’s right,” Crocodile hummed. Seeing these lovely boys taking care of each other gripped something deep within his chest. Whatever it was sparked fear in him, so much so that he had to pause while they laid Mihawk on the fresh sheets between them. 

I can’t lose them. Can’t lose any of them. 

“We’ll be waiting, little bird,” he pressed a kiss to Mihawk’s temple. Contented, sleepy sounds filled the air, and he tried to trust that this lovely new world wasn’t about to end. “Fly back home, alright?”

He couldn’t shape words, but Mihawk hummed his promise before he drifted away.

Home…

~~~🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“Morning, Y/N— well, afternoon by now, isn’t it?”

You shuffled just to have something to focus on while you simpered for him. 

The traitor. 

“Good afternoon, Shanks. I’m looking forward to our date this evening. Since you already won, I’m afraid you’re out of the running for the next date. We have to give everyone a chance, of course.”

“Of course.” 

You couldn’t fucking believe the charm that oozed off of him when he beamed at you. 

“I’d still like to try your little game though, if that’s alright, gorgeous?”

Shanks stayed quiet while you laid out the cards, some face up, some face down, before you counted down twenty two from the remaining deck. 

A comforting rhythm, the answer already dancing in your mind. 

“It’s the Eight of Clubs,” Shanks purred, touching the back of your hand. Lingering against your skin.

He looked so fucking smug. 

A sick stillness went through you before you revealed his answer. 

Of course, he knows this trick. He probably learned it before the first time he betrayed—

“Let’s go again,” Shanks ordered, the heat in his voice sending shivers across your shoulders, crawling up your neck. 

The eyes of his competition were on you, but the Emperor looked at you like you were already his. Like you were spread out before him, venison for the skilled hunter to devour. 

“Shuffle,” Shanks threatened, catching your chin in his dangerous fingers. 

Just smile. Just pretend.

“I’m not done playing with you yet, little bunny.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note:

Oh my goodness. Thank you so much for waiting, and for reading that giant chapter!! 🥰🙏🏼 I hope you enjoyed it, I've been going bonkers waiting to hear all your thoughts on this big ol' mess!

Let me know in the poll if you'd be interested in a separate post of my OP canon + Numbers Game canon timeline. It would give away reader's specific age, so I don't want to share it if people don't want to know!

Note on the Brochure: All of the character details included in the brochure are from Oda, except for the quotes and the missing details for Giberson. I found them on the One Piece Fandom Wiki if you’d like to go check out more about the characters' history. I live on that site, and have to give those fans the credit for compiling all those details! I already spend hours searching for specific parts in the anime for things like lines for speech patterns and such, I’d be lost without the wiki!

Note on the Card Trick: I must confess, I am not as skilled with numbers as our Numbers Girl. This is the same trick I had Buggy use during the flashback of their first night together, and I have no idea if this 15 year old youtube video is full of shit or not, but if you'd like to try it out, here's the tutorial!

Note on this line from the beginning of the chapter: "The White Stag. The hunted. The prey." Kiki Rockwell's voice has been living in my brain, and I realized this line is similar to hers in Burn Your Village "You do not dance everyday with the fear Of living in headlights, the hunted, the deer"

That song is so good, and fits so well! 🦌😭

Anyhoo, I'm off to try to catch up on all of your wonderful comments! Y'all mean the world to me, thank you so much!!! 🙏🏼💜

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 33

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[spookberry]

Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

[vhstown]

miles g morales x you headcanons

— 42!miles x gn!reader (dating)

warnings: fluff, brief mentions of violence, angst if you squint

note: ok i know i didn't write him like a bad boy rizzful cool criminal bf but this is just my interpretation from the 1min of screentime he had 😭 i hope someone likes it? i don't really but it's ok posting anyway, kind of long a lot of ramble

wasn't edited previously but is now!

Miles has never dated anyone before, so naturally, he's never kissed anyone before. In fact, though he's reluctant, he asks his uncle for advice about you (just as a nephew in need, of course.) It's sort of hilarious to see the boy with such a cold and unbothered exterior try to flirt and make a move on you. When he asks you out, he nearly trips over himself trying to block your way, and nearly trips over himself again when you say yes. When you try to kiss, he freezes up, but eventually gets the hang of it. It's surprisingly sweet and careful; warm.

Miles is hesitant to date you — date anyone. It's a casual sort of thing at first; he doesn't want to get too attached. But what draws him to you is the fact that you can make his life feel so normal, so simple and in-the-moment. It doesn't take long for him to realise that this is what he wants.

He does everything in his power to keep his criminal identity a secret. When there's rumours going around about the Prowler, he's quick to shut down the conversation with vague, uninterested answers. He's not scared of many things, but he's scared of the only person he can really be Miles around leaving.

So, the boy tries his absolute best to be good to you. Yes, he misses dates doing God knows what, but he's quick to try and reschedule or show up to your door with gifts, food, anything he thinks might make you happy (despite your annoyance, he's really good at making it up to you.) When dates aren't working, he decides to take you on spontaneous ones, going around Brooklyn and wracking his brain for anything that might interest you or be nice enough for a date. Half of your date is usually spent walking around together, but it's more fun than you think to pass time together like that.

For the time you do manage to spend together, you notice he's very observant (he has to be to survive as the Prowler.) Miles remembers every little detail about you and what you like. Things you told him since he met you are still firm in his memory, even if it was something you said off-handedly or to somebody else. He's always surprising you with little things you mention: an accessory, dessert from the place you wanted to try ages ago, etc.

Miles is very aware of your interests and whenever he passes by related stores, he's always asking you if you want anything. You're the only person in his life other than his family; of course he's going to cherish you.

But the second thing Miles is worried about is his mom. He's very overprotective over his mom, understandably so. She's the only parent he has left and he knows she overworks herself trying to provide for them. He's always trying to help her when he can, doing chores and errands without question and per his uncle's suggestions, but if something was to happen to her, he'd blame himself for it above all. So when he introduces you to her, he's more than uncertain. It's not like you could do anything to her, but he's made it a habit to never fully trust anyone anyway.

That is, until he sees how Rio completely lights up around you. She's so thrilled that Miles has a friend (or whatever Miles told her you were.) Even though she can only talk to you for a few minutes before her shift, she automatically opens up her home to you, telling you that you can help yourself to the kitchen and come over whenever you like. She whispers a couple things in Spanish to Miles that you can't quite catch, and he doesn't care to mention.

But you can definitely guess what she keeps telling him. Whenever he brings you over, he acts aloof, almost awkward trying to follow what his mom says to make you comfortable. The house and Miles' room suddenly becomes eerily spotless whenever you're due to come over, and the cupboards are in complete order. Rio's always asking Miles where you are, and she treats you like you're her second kid. She's very aware that you might be in the future (though Miles keeps denying it.)

You catch glimpses of his uncle sometimes. He doesn't really talk to you, but the man is calm enough. Miles seems to be comfortable around him, but when he finds out, you can make out an amused glint in Aaron's eyes whenever he sees you. Miles doesn't take you to see his uncle; he'd rather you're not aware of the man's ridiculous way of teasing him.

Whenever you come over, you both make it a habit to snack, play videogames, listen to music, whatever you feel like doing. It seems like he's always trying to keep you there. Miles will never admit it, but he misses you a lot. All he really does to show that is pull you into a silent hug and kiss your cheek when he sees you again, asking in the lowest voice what you've been up to.

When you asked Miles about his interests, he tells you the ones he shares with his uncle at first — music, art, etc. But whenever you go into his room, you notice a bunch of empty shelves and hastily shut drawers. Miles never really shares his real interests with anyone (he thinks they're childish more than anything), but when you insist, he bedrudgingly takes out the figures, comics and posters, acting like he put them away ages ago and forgot about them (more 5 minutes before you came over, if it wasn't obvious from the way he was flushing.)

The two of you spend a while putting everything back. You ask him questions about it and he returns them with short answers. When you leave that day, his heart is full, and his jaw hurts from trying to hide his smile as he looks at his shelves filled with superhero figurines and comics. He won't be touching anything now that you've put them in place. He really can be himself around you, though he's still a bit reluctant.

On top of Miles' other "secret" interests, he likes drawing. He keeps a tiny sketchbook where he draws people mainly, and you catch glimpses of it sometimes when he thinks you're not looking. Half of it is ripped out (there drawings of his mom, uncle and comic book superheroes scattered around his room), but the faces that do remain are of his dad, unfinished. There's another drawing he's never finished in there too. It's been constantly erased and redrawn; it was meant to be you. Eventually, that page is ripped out too. You can't find it no matter how hard you look; it's in his jacket.

And at first, the boy was kind of awkward. He didnt want to hurt you; he knows he very well could. He usually let you initiate anything (though he's clingy as hell and was just shooting that feeling down as much as he could.)

When he does get more comfortable around you (especially after he's sure it's not just a fling), he's always kissing your cheek, forehead, your hair; his kisses are surprisingly chaste, sweet, much like your first one. He holds your hand often too, even if you're just sitting next to each other, fingers firmly locked together with the occasional squeeze to let you know he's still there.

But he's no short of a tease too. Miles always likes to say pretty things in Spanish just to get you riled up. Even if you might understand what he's saying, he says it under his breath so you can't catch it. Miles doesn't repeat himself, instead giving you that stupid cocky smirk you've grown to love (and hate.) Sometimes he lifts your chin to make his eyes meet yours, maybe to see you flustered too as he studies your face in silence, poker-faced, not responding to anything you're saying. You think he's being teasing, but he just really doesn't know what to say. You're his, and sometimes he just can't believe it.

What he really loves though is holding you close: his head over your shoulder or your head against his chest (or his against yours, with much pestering) so you can't see the way that he's smiling. As much as he wants to be the cool and distant boyfriend, he's a big softie, absolutely melting with your affection, always quick to return it with his own.

But when you're out, it's a different story. He's not only overprotective of his mom, but of you. It really shows when he walks you home. He keeps his arm firmly around your waist, giving dirty looks to anyone who goes even an inch too close to you. He whipsers "you okay?" and "c'mon" while basically directing you around.

Miles knows these streets better than anyone else, but he's not going to take you through quick back alleys. He'll take you through busy main streets, maybe stop by a bodega to pick something up for you if you're still hungry while he eyes every corner of the store, even go on the subway with you if you're feeling particularly lazy, your back to his chest with an arm around you so you don't fall. He's always muttering about being safe, and his street smarts definitely rub off on you; his advice is sound, almost too experienced for a random kid living in Brooklyn.

However, Miles won't let you find out. No matter how much he's juggling being the Prowler, his family and you, he'll make it work. He can't lose this, no way in hell. Even if he has to lie to you about his seemingly random injuries or ditched date nights, you'll never find out about that purple blur that skids past you when you're outside at odd hours. They're just rumours after all, he tells you.

🕸️💫👾

thank you for reading 😭🙏 i struggled w this one and hobie too but idk i love 42 miles he's just some guy fr .... im thinking of writing a friends to lovers fic w 42 miles but im not sure yet (im just really lazy but lmk if ur interested?) + thank you to @qiuweyballs for the inspo i hate you (endearingly)

if u liked this reblogs are appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv headcanons here! love ya

[brujahinaskirt]

Okay, I obviously made the above post as a leetle joke, but since it's getting not insignificant traction, I do want to offer a more serious note.

I love this about Arthur. It's probably my favorite thing about him, but let me use this fresh new RDR2 meta post to clarify exactly what I mean. Despite the aspects of his personality & appearance that are traditionally hypermasculine, and despite how often he is annoyed with people (especially incompetents or people who meddle with his plans), Arthur is decidedly NOT annoyed by the social performance of femininity or by traits that are/were frequently stereotyped as feminine. Ever. Regardless of subject. I might go so far as to say he seems to canonically prefer hanging out with women and with "feminine" men.

Your long-winded, bullet-pointed analysis is below!

The Girls. Most noticeably, Arthur actually sits down to talk with and actively confides in the camp Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) more than anyone else around. These three are the most traditionally "girly" (single, 20s, active, pretty, unattached, highly social, feminine, chatty) members of the gang, though of course they are still criminals and don't perfectly adhere to all period-typical standards of feminine comportment. He doesn't mock the girls** like he sometimes does with other auxiliary members of the gang (like Uncle and Pearson, playful or not). Notably, he doesn't even gently tease Mary-Beth for writing her "silly" romance novels, a highly feminized hobby which she speaks about in a self-depreciating manner, much like Arthur speaks about his own artistic hobbies. Rather, he talks to her about writing like a peer and encourages her to write more by going out of his way to get her a nice pen. Crucially, there is no canon romantic or sexual interest in any of the girls on Arthur's behalf. He just feels the most comfortable in their company and seems to value their advice/opinions on life the most. To me, this is much stronger proof than his forever-burning torch for the cultured & ladylike Mary, which is (or was once) rooted in romantic desire. ** Unless the player persists in Antagonizing them, and these lines (while sometimes shockingly cruel and offhandedly sexual in nature; see Arthur teasing Tilly about pursuing Javier) are largely about goading them for laziness or, in Karen's case, her alcoholism. That said, many of the Antagonize lines strike me as clumsily tacked-on & poorly rooted in canon, which could indicate: (1) an Arthur who is deliberately trying to be disruptive (a generous interpretation), or (2) writers instructed to add throwaway content that will make a certain type of childishly misanthropic gamer (think 13 y.o. boys) squeal in glee with relatively low impact on the overall story.

Campmates. Following the above point... who doesn't Arthur hang out with much? The manly men of the gang; the very people social mores suggest he ought to be hanging out with. Bill, Micah, Joe, Cleet, and even Dutch. (To some extent, this includes John and Sean, but I'd say John sort of lives at the edges of gang life anyway, and Sean is, well, Sean.) Conversely, which male gang members does Arthur hang out with a lot? Sweet little bookish Lenny, a wordy, positive-energy, breezy intellectual who has just barely become an adult. Introspective, soft-voiced, long-haired Charles, who is traditionally masculine by some standards (strong, usually calm, can be standoffish) but decidedly NOT so when his appearance/demeanor is judged by the white Christian American male standards that began to dominate masculinity concepts in the later decades of the 1800s.

Algernon. Oh, my, Algernon. Arthur clearly dislikes Algernon's fancy, loud, outrageous clothing. But weirdly, he seems to like Algernon, not just tolerate him. Arthur in fact goes through significant personal discomfort to avoid hurting Algernon's feelings (the awful hat, the POST.MAN. sobbing), and he immediately says yes to having tea with him without any awareness of a coming business proposition, though half the time Arthur clearly has no fucking clue what Algernon is talking about. I am left to conclude that on some level, he just enjoys hearing Algernon talk, which is word-for-word what he says while listening to the Girls argue about romance novels ("I just like listening to you [all] talk." Hello????). I mean, for God's sake, he meets the man while he's choking to death on a nut at a fancy party, and the second thing Algernon does is tell him he looks like a guy who wears a corset. If anything was going to set off the boiling defensiveness of a dude who worships masculinity, thirty seconds with Algie would have done it.

Margaret, Mistress of Fucking Danger. It's pretty clear Arthur doesn't like Margaret. But that has little to do with Margaret's femininity & cross-dressing (this doesn't faze him at all when Charles Châtenay does it; more on that below) and everything to do with Margaret's deceptiveness and highly selective memory. It's not until the bullshittery unveils itself that Arthur starts getting visibly pissed off at Margaret. Conversely, Arthur does seem more positively disposed toward Sally Nash. (That said, this quest has a lot of problems and poorly aged lines that are depressingly easy for a politically motivated jerkoff to soundbite and miscast as Rockstar being pro-bigot. Cue 800 heterobnoxious gamerbro ARTHUR MORGAN ULTIMATE ANTI SNOWFLAKE SIGMA MALE OF THE WEST YouTube videos.)

Albert, my beloved. Rather than goading him to man up, Arthur tries to persuade Albert (whom he very obviously likes) to pick safer animal photography subjects, e.g. horses, and doesn't insult him for his lack of wilderness knowledge (an aspect of traditional manliness that is highly relevant to Arthur's lifestyle). You'd think he would tear into him for this shortcoming, given that they share so many of the same interests and passions, and IMO his genuine eagerness to serve as Albert's protector and facilitate his art is highly convincing evidence that Arthur does not necessarily view masculinity as a net positive.

Arthur is a basic goddamn boyfriend-hater. He pretty much harshly disapproves of every husband, boyfriend, male partner, etc. in the game and is very, very vocal about it... except one extremely unlikely candidate: Beau Gray. Weak, dandy artist Beau Gray, whom Arthur takes one look at and promptly hands the only gun to Penelope. Arthur is curt and impish to Beau at times, but helps him in his relationship troubles willingly (without collecting repayment), and seemingly for no other reason than the fact he can see that soft, fearful Beau is genuinely head-over-heels in love with Penelope. Is he projecting his own young love for Mary onto them? Maybe/probably, but Beau could not possibly be more different from young Arthur, and Arthur seems to believe this difference will make him a good husband for Penelope. A good husband, in Arthur's view, seems to simply be a man who ardently loves his beloved, regardless of his ability to provide for/protect her, and whose only goal in life is to live that life at her side. This is completely antithetical to mainstream late-1800s views on what constitutes a good husband and what it means to be a man.

Châtenay. Arthur shows us some of the most obvious delight and mirth he experiences in the game when he's hanging out with Charles "Allo Boys" Châtenay, who is straight up in drag a third of that time. This baffles Arthur a little, but doesn't disgust or repel him. I've written about this mission elsewhere at greater length because it is one of my favorite disasters, but it's worth mentioning here too.

Trelawny. Arthur clearly enjoys Trelawny despite his grumbly claims to the contrary. Most of these "claims" are just Arthur's established way of affectionate teasing (he does much the same with Uncle and Pearson, both of whom he genuinely likes). His authentic gripes about Trelawny are all about a perceived flightiness/lack of loyalty to the gang, not about his flamboyance. And even these gripes are half-assed, in Arthur's usual way.

Bluegills & Daisy Chains. One of the most genuine moments of softness we have with Arthur in RDR2 is when he takes Little Jack out of the camp to go fishing. Arthur's usually a much truer version of himself when he doesn't have to play the Big Bad Gang Lieutenant role, but this moment of escape is especially important, and not just because Arthur reveals his fondness for children and his natural understanding of how to talk to them. I notice this: Arthur tries to gently teach Jack about fishing, and Jack is completely fucking uninterested. Jack prefers to make flower chains for his mommy. Arthur doesn't scold him for his drifting attention or his lack of attraction to masculine past-times; on the contrary, Arthur goes out of his way to encourage and protect Jack's natural sweetness and innocence. That's a wild stance for a murdering outlaw to have re: the "next generation" of his family. Hell, I've encountered far too many 21st century dads in my own family who flip their shit when their tiny sons prefer hanging out with women & partaking in "womanly" hobbies like art, cooking, and flowers rather than hunting and fishing.

"...and be a god damn man." This seems like classic masculine bluster on the surface, but what does this keynote line mean in the context in which Arthur says it? Well, it's complicated. This statement serves as (a) Arthur's goodbye to John, (b) Arthur's final call to action for John, and (c) Arthur's last wish for his brother's life. But it certainly does not mean standing and fighting or being tough; i.e., "dying like a man." In that moment, it means abandoning all masculine bluster and revenge fantasy, and running away: leaving violence and fighting and brotherhood and all that crap behind to simply be there (alive, present) for your wife and son.

The Best Women People. Who are the best people Arthur knows, by his own crystal-clear declaration? Abigail and Sadie. Sadie's a rough-and-tumble, super-violent gunslinger and Abigail's a stubborn thief & a former sex worker (in the time Arthur has known her), but they are also, critically, two wives: the most traditional feminine role for a woman of the time period (and indeed perhaps most of human history once the concept of "wife" subsumed that of "mother"). It's also important to note that Arthur doesn't truly give up on Dutch until Dutch abandons Abigail, which serves as Arthur's point of no return. The other men left in the gang at this point specifically note that she's "just a woman" and not worth going back for. Arthur is straight-up shocked by all of this; he obviously considers her among the most worthwhile and value-having members of the gang, and certainly one of the most core members of the gang. Without any hesitation or doubt, the instant it's clear Dutch is cutting Abigail loose, Arthur declares: "That's that, then."

tl;dr: Arthur unironically prefers hanging out with women and queens and I love that for them.