#he should be entitled for compensation

[girlcavalcanti]

I'm a Richard III apologist in the sense that I wouldn't normally condone any of his actions but he's my baby! like even before he goes nuts and starts murdering his way to the crown everyone treats him like absolute shit. he decides he's gonna be a massive pain in the ass at the start of the play, proving that he wasn't before. he goes apeshit and why?? BECAUSE everyone always treated him like a little freak!! he decides to get that kingdom for himself because he's tired of seeing people always having a better time than him. it isn't his fault it's his family's and society's fault and I will die on this hill. he's absolutely right. maybe he overreacted a bit and maybe he shouldn't have murdered the children but what did you expect honestly. it's a miracle that he lasted that long without snapping. that man had a patience of steel. also he has the rawest lines in shakespeare's history and he's allowed to fo whatever the fuck he pleases. as a treat. because he's my baby

[gay-otlc]

Still not over the fact that Tiergan spent two years trying to avoid the sophitz relationship drama as much as physically possible, only to end up being their marriage counselor. Rip

[star-mum]

Quick break to be a hater:

I love my friends, I really do. They were the first people to actually treat me kindly in that fucking class

But DEAR ! GOD ! DO THEY SUCK AT WRITING PAPERS !!!!!

I'm over here "formatting" our latest assignment and I have to make a collage with their writing, is so fucking bad

[hightowered]

and you know i gotta say. the vast majority of the people losing their shit this weekend made it very clear that they do not understand the difference between "artists who want a measure of comfort in their lives" and "the billionaires actually being targeted by phrases like eat the rich." that is such a weird thing to be so proud to announce to the whole entire internet.

it's also extremely weird to behave as though any individual is entitled to an artist's work for free. or that the audience should be the final say in determining what an artist creates. there is a major difference between the betrayal of an artist who produces art and then banks on their social capital to engage in harmful, violent, bigoted behavior (like jk rowling) and the "betrayal" of an artist who decides that they should be or need to be compensated for their work. the latter isn't actually a betrayal at all. it's just a shift.

the thing is that the watcher boys didn't invent capitalism, they didn't invent the streaming model, they didn't invent youtube or patreon. they aren't getting 100% of the money from either. their merch doesn't magically appear as if made by elves while they sleep. their videos don't happen out of nowhere and without incurring bills. they have a business which employs people, and sure, you can say they employ too many people, but do they actually? a bunch of randos on the internet don't actually know that. they don't know these job titles, or how necessary it is to have everyone there. it's pure speculation. the entire company exists within a system they did not invent and are trying to stay afloat in said system while a bunch of assholes on the internet berate them for not acquiescing to their every whim at the expense of their artistic integrity, their ability to compensate their staff fairly, and their ability to keep making art.

and jumping from "i want to continue enjoying this artist's work for free" to "i think people should be fired and the remaining employees should be given greater responsibilities and more tasks to complete" is wild to me. there's nothing leftist in that and so trying to leverage leftist jargon to prove some sort of moral superiority is fucking wild, it's disingenuous, and it's sketchy as hell. you're allowed to be disappointed. you're not magically exempt from being told you're being an asshole if you decide your disappointment entitles you to take part in asshole behavior.

"but we don't want something heavily produced and we don't want these shows" then don't watch! that's it! don't watch! you are not being held hostage and forced to engage with this content. you have the choice not to. throwing a tantrum and launching racist vitriol at steven lim and demanding he step down as CEO shows a level of entitlement and childishness that, frankly, i wish they could have ignored, but they're both kinder & more patient than i am.

anyway congratulations to watcher on their new streaming service and their gorgeous new website, congratulations to the boys on a new step in their careers and on achieving something they've made clear they've wanted for ages, thank you to the boys for all their hard work and for sharing their creativity with us. thank you too for taking such a big and genuinely brave step to no longer be beholden to major corporations and advertisers so you can make the art you want to make. thank you to steven lim for taking so many steps back to keep the company running and for doing your best in a shit economy and while being targeted by this kind of nastiness online. and thank you to the entire team at @wearewatcher for continuing to do amazing work despite being treated like shit by the fan community at large on the internet while you're trying to make a living and create art. you all deserve better than you've been shown of late and i hate that such an exciting moment got overshadowed by so many temper tantrums.

because the whole fucking point, the dream, is getting to make the art that matters to them, without being held back. i'm sorry y'all don't want the heavily produced and high quality shit but your preferences as a member of an audience are not the law by which artists should abide. they are artists and they are free to, and deserve to, make the art they want to make.

[vivwritesfics]

Petit Monstre

Lando Norris + Y/N Leclerc = In Love

LandY/N + Charles Leclerc = One very angry big brother

2.1K

Lando Norris x Reader

Masterlist

"Are you a member of the Leclerc Family? Have you had to put up with these jokers for your entire life? Well you could be entitled to compensation."

Y/N Leclerc had her arms crossed over her chest, sunglasses covering her eyes, as she gestured back at her brothers. It had been incredibly difficult to get Charles and Lorenzo to participate, but Arthur had helped her to convince them.

"Call today and we at the Leclerc Justice Foundation could make you filthy, stinking rich."

The Leclerc brothers nodded their heads, sending sunglasses from the top of their heads to in front of their eyes.

The video was one of Y/N's most viewed on Instagram. It was hilarious, showing off exactly how much fun her brothers were. Y/N spent all of her time following Charles and Arthur around the world.

Her brothers were her everything. Y/N spent more time than she should have in the Ferrari garage with Charles. As his baby sister, she was his everything. Charles didn't bring his WAG to the races, he brought his little sister.

"What's up, Mon petit monstre?" Said Charles as Y/N walked over to him.

She pulled his hat from her head and placed it on her own. "Charlie," she said as she sat in the chair beside him. The hat was much too big on her head, sliding forward over her eyes. Y/N pushed it back and looked at her brother. "Do you think maman would kill me if I got a tattoo?" She asked her older brother.

"If she doesn't, Lorenzo will," Charles answered and went back to scrolling through his phone.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N draped herself over his back. "I ditched Arthur for you, you know," she muttered, giving him back his hat. "Think I made a mistake."

"No, you didn't. I'm way more fun than Arthur is and you know it," he said, finally turning to give her attention.

The youngest Leclerc sibling loved following her brother around Formula One. Mainly, she loved his friends, the other drivers she saw walking around the paddock. Of course, Charles had that rule around the paddock: No going near his little sister.

Everybody listened to that rule, everybody but Y/N. She didn't listen to her brother because, well, where was the fun in that.

Y/N avoided Max and Pierre. She wouldnt dare flirt with them. They were Charles' best friends and the first people he would murder. So, her next target?

Lando Norris was interesting to Y/N Leclerc. She had no other word for it, just interesting. Different from anybody she'd met before. Full of life and excitement. Y/N didn't know much about him until her brother introduced them (And then threatened Lando's life when he was caught flirting).

What Charles didn't know was that the flirting had continued behind his back. And Y/N was loving every second of it.

"Danny thinks I should get a tattoo," Y/N said, somewhat bitterly. "He thinks I should get a little cat on my hip."

Charles gave her something close to a glare. "No, Y/N, you're not getting a tattoo," he said, putting an end to the conversation.

But Y/N didn't much care about what her brother was saying. Not when none other than Lando Norris walked past. Her eyes snagged on his body, but she didn't let her gaze linger.

Her brother could never know. That was what the fun was, keeping things a secret from her brother. There was a certain thrill that came along with keeping things hidden. The less Charles knew, the better.

Arthur Leclerc had always prided himself on knowing Y/N the best out of all of the brothers. This wasn't entirely true though. He was slightly too young to be as protective if Y/N as Charles and Lorenzo were. He pulled her hair and pushed her around while Charles and Lorenzo helped her to cross the street. Arthur thought the most, but he didn't know quite as much as Charles and Lorenzo.

Arthur, though, was the first to work out about Y/N and Lando. Well, it was less working out and more accidentally walking in on the both of them post coitus.

It had taken Y/N a lot of time, money and love to stop Arthur from spilling everything to Charles and Lorenzo. She knew what would happen; they'd go into crazy protective brother mode and send her back to Monaco to be watched over by their mother.

If Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo got their way, Y/N would never date. She had to hide her first couple of boyfriends from her brothers, which sucked because a few of them were only with her to meet the Charles Leclerc.

While Y/N was watching Lando, her gaze a secret, Lando was staring at her through her sunglasses. He was too busy staring, almost running into a wall as he did so. They were supposed to meet later that night and Lando couldn't wait.

"Do you think you could go and bother somebody else?" Asked Charles as Y/N stole his hat yet again.

Y/N shook her head. But when she put her finger to her head in mock thought. "Well, I guess I could go and bother one of your friends, then," she said. "Maybe Carlos or Pierre or Esteban," she teased and walked away.

The fact that Charles didn't see his little sister for the rest of the day was... worrying. She was off doing god knows what, disturbing whoever. At least she wasn't causing chaos in the Ferrari garage anymore.

Y/N checked her phone. A text from Arthur, using their secret code, asking if she was seeing 'You-Know-Who' tonight. She messaged him back a quote from Harry Potter and then answered his question. Yes. Yes she would be seeing 'You-Know-Who' tonight. She'd be seeing him right now, in fact.

Hands covered her eyes. "Guess who," said a voice.

"Oh Carlos! I've been waiting for you all day!" Y/N cried and turned around, a wide smile on her face.

When she saw Lando standing there, her smile dropped. But it didn't last long. The smile was back on her face as she stepped into his embrace. "Hey," she said in a singsong voice as she looked up at him.

"Carlos, huh?" Lando tightened his grip on her, rocking from side to side as he held her.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and struggled her arms out of his grip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with his hair. "Just wanted to piss you off," she said and kissed him.

Lando refused to let go of her. "So, we on for tonight?" He asked, releasing his grip slightly.

As Y/N nodded her head, her phone went off. She reluctantly stepped away from Lando and answered her phone. "What the hell do you want?" She snapped at her older brother.

"Just wondering where you are, mon petit monstre," Charles answered.

Turns out Charles started to worry while Y/N wasn't causing chaos in the Ferrari garage. She was either missing or getting bad ideas from Danny.

"I'm fine," she somewhat snapped. "I'll be back soon." Hanging up the phone, Y/N placed it back in her pocket and turned to Lando. "Sorry, Lan," she muttered and wrapped her arms back around his neck. "I've got to go before Charles comes looking."

Lando let out a sigh and kissed her. "Okay. I'll meet you in your hotel room later," he said and kissed her once again. Lando released Y/N and walked away. She waited one minute before following him.

***

Y/N waited in her hotel room, sat on her bed in her favourite set of underwear. It was black with little neon yellow/green stars on it. The same neon yellow/green as Lando's LN4 logo.

There was a knock at her hotel room door. A specific knock that she and Lando had come up with so they knew it was them and nobody else. After the knock the hotel room door opened and Lando stepped in (Y/N had given him her spare key card).

"Wow," said Lando as he stepped into the room. "Wow, wow, wow." He pushed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Just shut up and come here," she said and grabbed a hold of him. Y/N pulled him close and pressed her lips against his.

Lando was underneath her, his shirt off as they made out. His hands roamed her body touching her waist and running his hand down her back, towards her ass. "My god," he muttered as he pulled away. "You're incredible."

"I know," Y/N said and returned to kissing him.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. Y/N and Lando froze. "Y/N? It's Charles!"

"Shit, fuck, shit!" Y/N whispered as she jumped away from Lando. She grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as Lando climbed off of the bed. "Hide somewhere!"

"Where?"

"I don't know!"

They were frantic, running around to try and make things look normal. Y/N made the bed look as though she had just climbed out of it while Lando hid on the floor beside it. The bed was between him and the door hiding his body.

Running to the door, Y/N checked one last time that everything was normal and pulled it open. "Hey, Charlie," she said, breathless. "What can I do for you?"

Charles walked into the room and sat on Y/N's bed. "Something's up with you," he said and looked at his sister. "There's something you're hiding and you've got Arthur in on it too."

But then Charles took a closer look at what Y/N was wearing. "Is that an LN4 shirt?"

"Maybe," she said and looked away from her brother. "I think Lando's merch is cool."

Charles shook his head. "Just tell me what's going on with you, please! I'm worried about you!"

"Well don't be! I'm a big girl and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she said.

There was a sneeze, a sneeze neither of the Leclerc siblings let out. Charles looked around the room. "Is somebody else here?" He asked and stood up.

"No!" Y/N cried, rushing over to the other side of the bed. Where Lando was hiding. Probably a bad idea, considering Charles now knew exactly where to look.

He stared for a full minute at the McLaren driver laying on the floor. "Lando," he said and gently kicked his foot. "What are you doing here?"

Lando was laying face down. It looked rather uncomfortable, but Charles wasn't ready to let him up just yet. "What are you doing here in my sisters room?"

Lando didn't answer.

"Lando?"

The McLaren driver pushed him up into a more comfortable position. "Oh, hey, Charles. What're you doing here?"

"I have every right to be here, you?"

"I..."

Y/N grabbed a hold of her brother. "Charles, he's dating me. We're dating."

Charles got up and left the room.

"Well, that went brilliantly," said Lando as he finally got to his feet. But Y/N was just staring at the door. At the door her brother had just left through. "Y/N?" He said, placing a hand on her back.

She just kept staring at the door. "He hates me."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does."

Y/N didn't speak to her brother until the next day, when she was down in the Ferrari garage, trying to get her to speak to him. "Come on Charles, you're overreacting," she said as she sat beside him.

"He's not going to talk," said Carlos as he came to sit beside her, sandwiching her in between the two Ferrari drivers.

Y/N turned her attention towards the Spanish driver. "Did he tell you?"

Carlos shook his head. "Lando did," he answered. "He's very happy."

Suddenly, Charles sat back and looked at his little sister. He stared at her, his green eyes staring into her soul. "Do you really love him?" He asked.

Y/N nodded her head. "Yeah, Charlie, I really do."

"Does he love you?"

"Yes!" Carlos answered for her.

Charles relaxed. He placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm going to say this one time and one time only, you and Lando have my approval. If he ever does anything to hurt you, Arthur, Lorenzo and I will murder him."

"That works for me."

[bigfatbimbo]

okay omg this is so dumb ong but basically, alastor said like vox is powerless without the other vees, right? and so picture like maybe something happens and the vees like fall apart and that leaves vox totally powerless. i just find the idea of a loser ass gideon graves type vox crashing on your couch because his entire empire fell apart very entertaining.

basically, headcanons? smut, fluff, angst, idc this is just such a silly episode type plot

i know i’m not alone, your a loser, just like me

a/n — I have such a love for oddly specific requests like this. In fact, I just love oddly specific x reader au’s.

summary — After the fall of the Vees, along Vox’s empire, and power, he’s left totally stranded in the reader apartment as their more or less housewife, and forced to live the life of, for lack of a better word, a total loser.

extra tags — headcanons, established relationships, mentions of smut, mentions of angst, mostly just fluff, like you could skip over the smut and angst if you want and barley loose anything

Vox has never had a lot of free time. In death, his schedule was just as packed as it was during life. From meetings, to live shows, to arguments with Alastor, to any so-called ‘downtime’ with the Vees, he’s never not been busy. 

But the Vees weren’t here anymore, and neither was his empire. That meant, no arguments to mediate and no business offers to consider. Practically, he had no work to do. 

And the part that really bothered him, was that you did. Him being out of a job, meant that you were the main breadwinner of the household. In simple terms, Vox was powerless. And the downgrade from his studio standing high above the rest of Hells scum, to your one bedroom apartment was certainly less than charming. 

He had nothing to do all day, but sit and wait for you. That doesn’t sound that bad for any normal person, but Vox wasn’t normal. And neither was the way he was dealing with the sudden fall of his empire. 

The first week came and went, rocky to say the least. His time was spent either in bed, or lounging by the bathtub, reluctantly petting his shark, Vark. After a while, the comfort of the creature evaporated as quickly as it set in. Vox’s brows would furrow with irrational. Vark, the only remaining piece of wreckage, reminding him of his once powerful kingdom. 

But Vark didn’t know Vox had lost anything. Infuriated by this thought, each visit to the bathtub that week led to Vox promptly storming out of the room. 

The second week hadn’t been all that better. Feeling the need to compensate for the absence of his power, he acted specifically entitled. Not to mention, coming onto you every five seconds, and trying his hardest to act domineering. 

However, this desperate act crumbled as soon as you got fed up, “Seriously Vox, could you keep it in your fucking pants? Acting powerful doesn’t bring back your power, douchebag.” 

The statement should have prompted an argument, one that would have happened if it hadn’t been for Vox’s fragile state of living, but he simply shut his mouth.

Which brings us to the third week. The initial sadness and desperation has worn off, since it has been almost a month. It’s not that he doesn’t crave that power back anymore, but there is a subtle understanding that it’s not coming back anytime soon. 

Instead, he focuses on distracting himself through more mundane aspects of life. 

For lack of his surveillance cameras, he’d resort to following you around with a small drone for part of the day, examining your tasks. Watching you work he’d sigh, you were so productive.

However the drone would only last so long, since it wasn’t the most well-made contraption. At first, he’d really hate the feeling of being all alone. It made him feel like your housewife, or something. Well, he thought, in a sense, he was. 

Reluctantly, and given his time period, he’d do what he knows about the whole concept of being the stay-at-home partner. Although, given he’s never played that role, he’s terrible at it.

You’d come home and his attempt to clean the house would lead to slippery soap suds on the ground, acting like breadcrumbs leading to the task that Vox accidentally distracted himself with.

In most cases, this would be a chalk board where he would uselessly try to plot out his rise to power, once again. And he’d be laughing maniacally while explaining it to you, but he’s very proud of all of his [unrealistic] plans so you’d just have to nod and smile. His ego has taken enough hits as is, he doesn’t need your disapproval too.

However, sometimes, he would really try to cook something for you when you arrive home. This… doesn’t work out well, to say the least.

As soon as you walk through the door, you’re greeted with smoke, and angry shouting. Not at you, however. When your surroundings become less fuzzy, you see clearly Vox screaming profanities at the oven.

“Useless piece of shit,” he’d shout, kicking the oven, and then recoiling back from the pain in his toe. Then once again getting angry and throwing a spatula at the wall closest to you.

“Y/n!” He’d observe, putting on his, now rusty, customer service voice, “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” 

“Yeah, looks like you needed—“ You cough, swatting away the smoke from the kitchen and going to open a window “—more time to finish up.”

Walking over to him, he’d slouch over and cross his arms, clearly not happy with his failure of an attempt to cook for you. With his new foreign feeling of uselessness, he’d be very desperate for any form of success.

You’d put your hands on either side of his shoulders and rub comfortingly, “What were you trying to cook?” 

And that starts the new routine. Vox tries to cook for you, fails, and you come home and help him finish the job.

He doesn’t like being bossed around, even in the kitchen, but with the sudden withdrawal from the spotlight, he’s constantly craving your attention to an obsessive amount, which mostly makes up for his control-freak nature.

With this, however, that means that every second you’re off work and NOT at home with him, he throws a huge hissy fit. 

Probably leading to a big argument where, after a short time of pouting, Vox realizes that he probably doesn’t want to loose the only person he has left. So he smooth talks his way back, before you even consider kicking him out.

But every morning before work it’s a struggle too, “Vox, get off of me, I have to go to work.” 

“Call off, then.” “No?” “Oh, so you don’t fucking love me enough.” “Do you not love this roof over your head? I’m going to work.” “…pick up some gatorade on your way home.” 

Along with being desperate for attention, as could be assumed he’s intensely and apologetically clingy. Well, unapologetic in the sense that he doesn’t change he’s behavior after you call him out on it. He does get very defensive when you tease him.

Like even when it’s undeniable. He’d have his head laying in your lap, lazily playing with your fingers while he talks about whatever his ‘evil plan to rise to power’ of the week is. And you tell him you needed to go to the bathroom and he would move and just tell you to “Wait until i’m finished talking.”

Sex wise, he would try really, irritatingly hard to be super dominant to compensate for his loss of power in society. But on the flip side, because of his vulnerable state, he’d probably naturally find himself being more easily submissive in bed. 

But with that, I think he’d have less of a tolerance for overly degrading words. Because usually, I would definitely say he has a thing for degrading and humiliation, but his ego was [very high but] fragile before, and in the light of recent events, it’s completely fucking shattered.

It’s really just embarrassment at the end of the day. His self entitlement isn’t gone, it’s just been replaced by a “aw boohoo, i’m so much better than this :(“ mindset.

So he needs praise more than anything. In fact, a lot of what he does, or rather tries to do, around the house is to get your approval. To not fail at something, and it’s been a while. 

Now, smut aside, like I said, there’d be a lot more vulnerability on Vox’s part. Because, after all, he’d probably be in the worst headspace of his entire existence.

It’s safe to assume, being a white man in the fifties, that he didn’t have it rough in life. And up until the fall of the Vees, dying was one of the best things that ever happened to him. 

For the first time, in all of the years he’s lived and died, he isn’t overtly privileged, and it’s driving him crazy. His immense power has been replaced by a terrible craving for success. His fear of failure and rejection have been heightened, and he’s almost as obsessed with getting his empire back, as he is dependent on you. 

But with no real way to achieve his goal, and barely any drive, he is left being, for lack of a better word, a washed up loser. A hazbin, if you would!

But he does miss the Vees. In fact, he misses them a lot. Occasionally you have to comfort him at night when he’s thinking of them, or when he sees something that reminds him of the two of them. 

I also think he’d go through days where he’d either be super prone to arguments and super touchy, or you see a noticeable change in this behavior because he just doesn’t care as much anymore.

Silly Vox though, which you’d see a lot more of now that he isn’t a CEO, would be very present.

You’d get home from work and he’d be super siked because he picked out a movie to watch with you. (Goodfellas, American Psycho, or Joker, it is never not one of these movies.) 

But he has a lot of time when your away, and that’s kinda dangerous for a guy like him, especially in a closed space since he’s too ashamed to show his face to the outside world.

You’d walk through the door and he’d show you some new tech he swears will allow you both to “rise through the ranks of hell!” But you’d take one look and realize, “Vox did you take apart our microwave to make that??” 

Most days, he’d go through weird cycles of trying to clean the house and cook, basically doing what he knows he’s ’obligated’ to do as your sitcom housewife, but then other days, literally trashing the place.

You’d come home find glass shattered all across the, almost flooded, floor. Then you’d look up to find Vox lowering Vark into a clearly homemade tank.

He’d reassure you and be like, “No, now we have our tub back! All thanks to me and my genius brain, your welcome—“

“Where’d you get the glass, Vox,” you’d sigh, massaging your forehead because of the new, growing headache. Not to your surprise, but definitely your disappointment, the response would be, “…The bedroom windows.”

Also, this is off topic but he’d have one of those “kiss me, i’m irish” aprons. 

I think that Vox at rock bottom has such a fun ‘beginning of season character arc’ vibe to me. Like watch as he goes from the world’s worst housewife, to semi-competent over the span of a few months.

It reminds me of peridots (steven universe reference) redemption arc, in a sense of vibes alone. If we’re talking from a realistic in-show perspective, end of the season, the redemption arc would not be successful IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

Like he would be fully adjusted, and honestly happy with his life. Slow dancing with you each night, honestly getting the hang of cooking, and a lot less complaining. But then he would get an opportunity to once again rise the ranks of hell. And a good opportunity too, like it would place him very relatively high up.

And well… society can take the villain out of the capitalist, but never the capitalist out of the villain.

a/n — actually society, especially in hell, does not have the power to take the villain out of the capitalist, but I digress. Don’t get bimbo started on capitalism as a social concept because it is literally the most interesting thing in the world to me lowkey.

Anyways, I love housewife!Vox so much, and I will be SO HAPPY to do more with this au. He’s the worlds shittiest stay-at-home partner and I love him.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

I don’t understand the fandoms love for Daemon, by all rights he should be as hated as Joffrey was. Not only did he do almost everything Joffrey did, he also did worse. Even Tywin wouldn’t hold a candle to his cruelty. I understand liking a villainous character, I do too with Cersei and Tywin, but I’ve never went out of my way to whitewash their characters. I love them because they are villainous and practically irredeemable, if team black stans liked Daemon for his villainous actions before and during the Dance of Dragons I wouldn’t have any problems with it. But the fact that they go out of their way to defend him killing Rhea Royce because “he was forced into a marriage he didn’t like!!!!” As if she wasn’t too. And the fact that they defend him sending Blood and Cheese to psychologically torture Haelena and kill Jaehaerys due to “a son for a son it’s only right” when they despise Alicents moment of madness when her son was denied justice, makes me want to hurl.

It’s alright to like villainous characters, it doesn’t make you a bad person if you like them. But you know what makes you a moronic person? Whitewashing everything that makes a character compelling because you want to like them without seeming like a ‘bad person’. Your opinion on a character does not determine your own morality, it doesn’t make you better or worse than someone who hates them. But what it does, when you erase their entire identity as a rouge to make them more palatable to you, is make you seem moronic, stupid, and lacking any critical thinking and reading comprehension skills.

Rhaenyra is a compelling character because she is entitled and spoiled and lacks any political experience, she shows how badly Viserys fucked up when he tried to compensate for his guilt of murdering Aemma. Alicent is a compelling character because she is a mother who is trying her best to protect her children from the reality that if Daemon took the throne for Rhaenyra, he would kill all of them because they are a threat. She is even more of a compelling character in the books because of her ambition and cunning and want for her family to rise far above the ‘station’ of being a noble house in the Reach (as if house Hightower aren’t the oldest house in Westeros who could trace their lineage back to both the Garth Greenhand the high king of the first men and the Andal Kings that came afterwards). Daemon, for all that I dislike him as a character, is compelling for his ruthlessness and shortsightedness in his pursuit of the throne. He didn’t raise an army for Viserys because he thought he was a competent leader, he did it because it raised his own standing within Westeros, he groomed Rhaenyra not because he loved her, but because having him in her good graces means that he stood a better chance of being king after she was named heir. His ruthlessness is compelling. Taking it away to make him into a ‘malewife’ or a ‘loving father’ or a man who is lacking any ambition beyond wanting a valyrian wife is taking away his agency. It makes him seem like a Gary Sue who only wants the throne because his brother said Rhaenyra was heir. It makes it so that he is so completely white bread like that not even I, someone who loved the more morally bankrupt characters in ASOIAF can find him agreeable in any way shape or form.

Daemon is a fundamentally morally bankrupt character and he should stay that way. If you like him you should acknowledge and accept that he is one of the ‘bad guys’. Just as Cersei fans acknowledge and accept that she is fundamentally a morally bankrupt person who is selfish to the extreme. We like morally black characters because they are morally black. To make excuses for their actions is to take away their agency which makes them unlikable and very hate-able.

Daemons actions aren’t justifiable, blood and cheese would never be justified. A son for a son is akin to the visceral disgust the fandom had to Alicent when she asked for Lucerys’ eye, yet I bet when season two comes out and Blood and Cheese happens we’d see Daemon fans applauding and trying to justify it as ‘not that bad’ and ‘team green deserved it because of Aemond’s actions’ when little Jaehaerys, a boy of 6, was as far removed from the incident as can be. It would be akin to Team Green saying that due to Jaehaerys’ death, Aegon III or Viserys II deserved to have their head cut off in front of Rhaenyra.

Let morally bankrupt characters be morally bankrupt. You aren’t morally bankrupt because you like said character, it’s a fictional story loosely based on Empress Matilda. It’s not that deep. Like the characters you like without trying to justify their actions. They might be monstrous but you aren’t because you like them. It’s not a measure of your own character because you like said character. But it is a measure of your intelligence when you try to change said character’s entire personality to make it so that they are more digestible to you and everyone else.

[maladaptiveobsession]

yandere adam headcanons

contains: brief dubcon mention, manipulation, emotional/mental abuse, degradation

yandere adam

who, under all the false bravado, is insecure. cuckolded twice—and by the same man no less—how could he not be? the overwhelming anxiety of losing you haunts him. try as he might, loud vulgarities make terrible compensation for confidence.

who sabotages any meaningful relationships. what do you mean you’re lonely? this is heaven; you’re surrounded by others! the company you keep never satisfies your desire for connection, seemingly close yet just out of reach. despite your best efforts, you couldn’t seem to form any deep attachments. the mental isolation will wear you down and warp your thoughts. were you even worth keeping around? distraught and rejected, adam will pull you out of the depths of your despair. who needs those stains? they don’t appreciate you like he does; don’t care for you like he does. you can see it now, can’t you? he’s the only one for you.

who openly tears you down with stinging criticism, finding fault in all that you do. his denigrations are no more than projected insecurities. though he casts a confident image, he is doubtful and hesitant. his harassment is subtle; any concerns you bring up brushed off and met with admonishment. don’t be so sensitive! that’s just how he is! you must be misunderstanding him. adam himself hardly recognizes his arraignment, sending crude remarks your way merely out of habit. he’s never meant any of it, often leaving himself wondering why he pressures you so much. it’s not that he takes pleasure in your dejection, but rather that he subconsciously recognizes his own faults. he knows he’s no good for you and that you deserve better. so he tears you down as he does himself, hoping that if you have no confidence in yourself, you’ll settle for him. though he means none of what he says, don’t expect any apologies. he’s convinced himself he’s above apologies, above you.

who takes what he wants, always pushing your boundaries, never asking for permission. it’s only natural; you belong to him. i mean, who asks their toys for consent to play? things would be so much simpler if you just cooperated. who cares if he plays a little rough? you can take it. that being said, adam views you less as an object and more as an extension of him.

who’s never far. what do you mean you’re going out? don’t go anywhere just yet; he’s coming with. no matter the destination or occasion, he’ll be there. what if you never come back? what if you leave him?

who’s entitled. he was the first soul to enter heaven; he’s earned this! you think you’re too good for him or something? you should be happy that he chose you! he has plenty of sluts lined up to ride the original dick; he could easily replace you. empty threats, yet stinging all the same.

who craves your worship. paradoxical as it is, he is annoyingly conceited yet also self-deprecating. having been divorced twice, he often worries he’s inadequate. so he overcompensates confidence to the point of arrogance. his doubt in your faithfulness connects to his past trauma, so compliment his features, praise his accomplishments, and let him know just how much you appreciate and enjoy being around him. he may not say thank you, but you can tell just how much he values your opinions.

who demands your attention. evading him is nearly impossible. he’ll take offense, of course, but ultimately see it as a challenge. clearly you were ignoring him because you wanted his attention! why else would you avoid him? no worries, babe! he’s all yours! isn’t he so generous?

who shows you off, proudly announcing your relation to everyone you meet. all of heaven, perhaps even some of hell, will know of you. whether you’re with adam or not, crowds will whisper, point, and goggle as you wander. you’re his bitch, hot stuff! get used to it! he wants everyone to see just how out of reach you are. you’re his, only his

who derives no pleasure from hurting you. adam will never physically harm you. underneath that crude exterior, he truly does care for you. he can give you everything, anything! just don’t abandon him. to keep you by his side, nothing is above him.

[echo-and-dust]

now that my brain has somewhat unscrambled itself i have gotten most of my thoughts in order about season 3.

and the first thing i will say is: i loved it.

while it was gutwrenching and polarizing in some ways and i feel that i am entitled to financial compensation for what its done to my mental health, i loved this season for pretty much almost everything it did.

i cannot fault people for having issues with much of the characterization and plot choices made—that’s been the trend during the entire run of the show after all, and imo it’s a testament to the phenomenal way it generates nuance—but i wanted to share my feelings on the recurring opinions i’ve seen about some of these things.

first, i do not blame simon at all for the things he said in the final scene. he’s a child who has been receiving endless verbal and physical harassment on top of all the trauma he is still trying to heal from. he just watched his boyfriend lash out in anger and hurt—while not at him, but it must’ve been a close resemblance of how he might’ve seen micke act. at least, that's what i thought, though i've seen others say otherwise.

and yes, wille is not micke, but just because wille’s source of outbursts is different from micke’s doesn’t mean simon is wrong in drawing similarities. at least he's finally getting a true glimpse into what wille has had to deal with. i've honestly grown to like that they didn't have simon immediately comfort him though; wille's mental illness is not his fault, but it is his responsibility, and instead of pushing a message of unhealthy co-dependence, the show has simon be honest: "but i see that everything hurts you and that hurts me too." and to me, that's so important.

plus, it doesn't make their love any less genuine. wille is a victim of the circumstances; he is not evil, and he is not undeserving of simon. he just has a lot of growing and healing to do, a lot of unlearning and exposure therapy because he's still blinded by privilege even when he tries not to be.

speaking of, i have so many thoughts about wille that i feel like i need to save for its own separate post, but to sum them up: i'll still defend him with my life, and he needs to get the fuck away from that institution.

also, the fact that the responsibility of controlling simon's media decisions was placed solely on wille confused me at first like—why wouldn't they get a professional to give him proper media training?

then i realized, this could be the royal court's way of sabotaging their relationship. they knew that making wille the one to tell simon what he can and cannot say or post would create distance and animosity between them. despite the ramifications of simon's behavior on social media, it seems they still thought it best to have his boyfriend be the one to try to mold him into the system. because they knew that's how they could get rid of him. in conclusion, fuck the royal court (we been knew but still).

one of the standouts this season was their transparency regarding the show's politics. it not only works well with the show's arc (wilmon is public, everything's out in the open now and there's nothing to hide), but also it felt necessary at a time where censorship has been rapidly gaining momentum. it felt so refreshing for these characters to talk so openly about racial discrimination and queerphobia and class disparities, forcing both character and viewer to acknowledge that they exist and you should feel uncomfortable about it.

i don't think i can add much more to what was already said about it—most of the fandom is more eloquent and observant than i am anyway—i just wanted to reinforce how important this season is to myself and the story even with how controversial it is to fans right now. a lot of people may disagree with me and that's fine.

[nerdpoe]

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 1

Part 2, Ao3

Daniel Nightingale, ex Fenton, moves to Gotham for a fresh start. It's next to his friends, it's so very different from Amity Park, and Lady Gotham has promised her Knights will protect him. The world as he knew it has changed, and no longer has a place as a combat hero. Not when he's more likely to flinch than to dodge, not when the sight of a knife is enough to force him back to a time and a place he never wanted to see again. In an attempt to adapt, Danny turns to being a specialized hero-medic; his sole focus is helping and evacuating, not fighting. Except that no one told him Death Energy had the same reading to Geiger counters as gamma radiation. It isn't, but apparently Geiger counters can't tell the difference.

Danny Nightingale plopped down on his new couch, taking a moment to breathe in that new apartment smell. It was a pleasant, three bedroom apartment in a relatively nice area of Gotham. 

Well, nice for ghosts. Specifically, the sheer amount of emotions around the place, both past and present, made it an ideal spot for a healing ghost to situate himself.

Danny felt that the more important point was that he finally had a place to himself. 

He was tired of everyone coddling him, acting like he was going to break if he was even touched wrong. But luckily, Gotham was so far away from any kind of city his family would want to visit that he was free to dodge their nannying.

When he had woken up from the…Accident, it was to a political shitstorm; the Infinite Realms had been gearing up for war, and surprisingly Dan had been the only thing stopping them. The negotiations between dimensions had been a nightmare, especially with the sheer amount of effort it took to keep the Justice League’s nose out of his business, but it had been worth it.

Ghosts were considered sapient entities, were acknowledged to be from essentially a different country/dimension, and the ghosts that lived on Earth and had been negatively affected by the laws that were in place were entitled to compensation for the violation to their persons.

Added bonus, Danny could stay.

The first place he had chosen had been Gotham; it was close to Sam and Tucker, and had just the right dosage of occult to meet Frostbite’s strict ecto-therapy regimen.

That, and Lady Gotham had extended an invitation.

The move had been insane, for multiple reasons.

Vlad had insisted on coming along, something about verifying that Danny wasn’t about to live in a hovel. 

Vlad actually caring-in his own way-was still so weird to Danny.

But at least it had been entertaining; every single time Vlad had stepped out of the car to get something from the gas stations, he kept getting mugged.

Another headache was the fact that, on moving day alone, there were three separate rogue attacks, and traffic had backed up so badly Danny was almost convinced to blow his cover and just fucking fly to his new place.

Which would be the last thing Dan needed-someone with his powers cropping up in a city on the other side of the country. Dan had enough on his plate with his whole…thing he’d decided on doing; the world as a whole declaring that his natural born nemesis was opposite sides of the country would throw a wrench in his rehabilitation.

The man had enough problems.

Like Danny had enough problems, but strangely only when Vlad was around. 

The car Vlad had been driving had hit every single pothole and broken both axles, and overall Danny had the sense that Vlad should probably have never set foot in the city.

Honestly, the absolute second Vlad had left the move had gone much smoother.

Like, Danny had still had to pay the movers extra for the rogue attacks, vicinity to crimes (thanks Vlad for getting mugged so often that the muggers just started taking clothing items), and traffic; but after his Godfather had left it had been done in about two hours flat.

Did he still have to unbox his belongings? Yes. Was he going to do that at that particular moment?

Danny flopped sideways and brought his cell phone up to his face.

No. No, he was not.

He was going to take a breather, fall asleep on his new couch, read the news and watch some random memes, and enjoy his Restitution Money.

Danny had only been scrolling on his phone for two minutes when he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Danny woke up to the sounds of muffled screams.

“Well that’s never good,” He muttered as he tried to roll over. He landed on the floor instead.

Right.

He hadn’t put the bed together yet.

Groaning, Danny pushed himself up for the purpose of hunting down where he’d put his poptarts. Only once he’d opened a box and started digging through it did he realize that the muffled screams were not coming from his definitely dead phone.

They were coming from outside.

Danny tripped over his feet as he bolted for the window, pressing his face against the glass as he stared down at the streets in disbelief.

The streets were filled with a green, noxious gas. People collapsed onto the ground only to scream and claw at their own faces. Some were attacking others, and anyone who left to assist had gas masks on.

Not that the masks did much good, considering the citizens who had been dosed would freak out and rip it off of them.

Batman and Red Hood were on scene, but they were so focused on cornering and catching the freak in the scarecrow costume that the only one able to assist the civilians was Robin. Unfortunately, as well trained as Robin was, there were too many.

Robin was doing the best he could, Danny could see that, but he was clearly over-burdened and needed assistance. 

Danny…was appalled. This was the most ineffective rogue fight he’d ever witnessed.

When he’d been in charge of Amity, his citizens had only rarely been caught in the crossfire, and he never had a casualty. But here was one of the Big Leaguers and his cohorts, and they couldn’t arrange for the civilians to be treated or get to safety.

Danny, with no means to protect himself and unsure of how the gas would effect him, a halfa, could only watch from the window of his sixth story apartment.

Twenty minutes.

It had taken Batman and Red Hood twenty minutes to take down Scarecrow.

Danny had watched the whole thing.

Twenty minutes, thirty-two injured, nine dead, twelve critically injured.

And Danny, tied by the red tape of bureaucracy and his own trauma, hadn’t been able to do anything.

~~~~~~

A day later, full of unpacking and getting his apartment set up while he ignored the sounds of the emergency workers outside his window, Danny couldn’t stop seeing the attack.

There was so much room for improvement, but Batman apparently didn’t have anyone specifically trained in only defense and evacuation.

Danny had been so, so lucky for Sam and Tucker and Jazz. They had tag-teamed it; one of them would help him fight, the other two would evacuate civilians.

Batman was good at what he did, Danny could not deny that.

But there was room for improvement that was just…there. It was right there. 

Danny couldn’t offer his services as Phantom. He couldn’t. He just…every time he thought about donning his old hero moniker, he’d start remembering.

If he started remembering, he became useless until he was able to remember that he was still alive.

And being a combatant, in and of itself, was highly…dissatisfying. 

No sleep, constant injuries, threat of exposure hanging over his head; Danny’d had enough in high school. He had a whole life separate from that, in a city so big and problematic that just donating used clothes was enough to save someone’s life.

He was doing better. He could finally sleep without nightmares, people reaching out to touch him didn’t make him flinch, and he was away from a town of people who had made his childhood a living hell even before he’d had the Accident.

He refused to ask Dan to step in; the man was needed where he was, and Danny couldn’t drag away a teacher from his students.

Ellie was in college, and Danny wasn’t about to interrupt her education to drag her into the vigilante lifestyle she never even showed real interest in.

On top of his many, many other reasons for just not wanting to get into fights anymore.

Instead he took his frustrations out on kneading the dough on his counter.

His phone buzzed.

      Ellie       Omggggggggggg I don’t know what’s so hard???       Just bully Dan into doing it!

Danny snorted and allowed his hands to go intangible, the dough stuck to his fingers sliding back onto the counter, before he touched his phone to reply.

      Danny       Omggggggggg I literally can’t do that       P sure ur the only one who can bully him       He’s a pushover but only 4 u

He set his phone down and continued stress-baking. Ellie would take a bit to respond, since she wasn’t even supposed to have her phone on her at work.

But apparently Ellie had decided that she did not care.

      Ellie       Lies and slander       He’s scared of me I just know it       Also imma kill my customers

      Danny       Don’t commit murder        Diplomatic immunity only goes so far       I don’t need an inter-dimensional incident

      Danny       Ellie?       Ellie no       Don’t actually kill a human

      Ellie       This dude won’t get off my call       He’s so annoying danny I gotta       I       I’m gonna do a ring

      Danny       Ellie NO

      Ellie       Ellie yes brb

Ellie stopped responding after that, and Danny groaned.

She was absolutely going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

~~~~~~

Ellie was going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

But it wasn’t her fault!

The stupid caller-Kent or whatever-was being a total ass!

“Sir,” she tried, one last time, “I cannot assist you with this matter. Either you let me transfer you to someone who can, or I’m going to crawl through this phone and kick your ass.”

“Tt. Even if you were a meta capable of such a feat, I highly doubt you could best me in combat.”

“I warned you.”

Ellie let her form fall away, distantly hearing the screams of her coworkers, and traveled through the phone connection.

Her arm burst from the cell phones ear piece and clocked someone across the face. Then she let the rest of herself crawl through, as eldritch as she could make it without actually driving anyone insane.

There was a scream of terror on her right, but she only had eyes for the tanned asshole in front of her with the bloody nose.

Then she let loose on him.

Surprisingly, he managed to block most of her attacks once he came to his senses.

Most of them.

She just started cheating after that and phasing through his hands to connect to his body.

There was a brief moment where the terrified one to her right tried to intervene, but both she and the Kevin kicked him in the face with a joint “Stay out of this!”.

He stayed out of it.

After fifteen minutes of rough-housing, which was what it had definitely turned into, Ellie wiped the blood away from her nose and held out her hand to the man she was sitting on.

“That was a nice fight; the names Ellie.”

The man paused, hesitated…and shook her hand.

“It was admirable. I am Damian.”

“Um…” Ellie and Damian both turned to look at the other man in the room, a blue eyed black haired carbon copy of her brother almost. But like, younger.

“I’m Jon. You kick pretty hard!”

“Thanks! Well I am definitely fired. What was the real reason for calling, anyways?”

Damian sat up and forced Ellie to fall off of him, his face slowly turning red.

“I didn’t realize that my dad’s card would get charged when I made an app store purchase,” Jon admitted quietly, “Damian was trying to annoy customer service into canceling the transaction so dad wouldn’t find out.”

Ellie wheezed from her spot on the ground, laughing harder when Damian turned and left the room in a huff.

“So…is that something you could go back and-?”

“You’re so fucked my dude.”

~~~~~~

Danny checked his care package while he waited for the Arkham guards to finish verifying his visitation rights.

Muffins? Check. Pretzels? Check. Cookies? Check. Donuts? Check. Fudge? No.

Danny still hadn’t been able to make himself use his father’s recipe.

He wasn’t sure when he would be able to.

It looked like when the guards had checked everything for escape tools they hadn’t eaten anything.

Danny felt strangely offended by that.

“Alright, you’re clear. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Danny sighed, walking away from the last semblance of normalcy and into what could only be described as hell for the mentally stable.

Arkham was a place that radiated the pull to help, the pull to heal, but was overrun by lifetimes of grudges nothing short of burning the place down would ever be able to fix.

It was, unfortunately, the only place capable of holding his parents.

Who he could hear as they were led to the visitation rooms.

“Danny!” Maddie Fenton cried, attempting to throw herself at him. The chain that was held by her accompanying guards, however, yanked her back.

“Dann-o!” Jack cried as he was hauled through the other door, power-dampening cuffs active. He had far too many guards to attempt to launch forward; after he’d broken four walls, Arkham had stopped taking chances.

“Hey mom, hey dad,” Danny said weakly, placing the care package on the table, “Everything is even, so you should both get the same amount.”

“Aw, our baby boy is so considerate!” Maddie cooed, reaching forward and pinching Danny’s cheek before the guards could tug her back out of range.

“So, I just wanted to know how you guys were settling in-“

“Have you seen any ghosts in Gotham, Dann-o?”

Danny took a deep breath through his nose.

“It doesn’t matter if I did or did not, dad; they’re a protected species with rights now.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Maddie laughed, already digging into the package and pulling out a pretzel, “So what if the government fell for their acting? You know, when we caught Phantom-“

“-When you caught Phantom, you nearly started an inter-dimensional war,” Danny cut in, hiding his shaking fists under the table.

Maddie leveled him with her most disappointed look, while Jack laughed merrily.

“Come on, Dann-o, you fell for it’s rambling too? Ah, well. We found out so much when it turned into that weird jewel-“

“-When you mortally wounded the King of an entire Dimension, almost forever scarring relations between this one and that one-“

“-Young man, we really are happy to see you, but if you’re just going to quote ghost propaganda at us-“

“-It isn’t propaganda, you guys just don’t listen-“

“-Dann-o, if you’re possessed by ectoplasmic scum, just blink twice-“

Danny stood up, chair clattering to the ground, and turned for the exit.

“…I’ll come again in two weeks. Please actually talk to your doctors and at least try to get better.”

He couldn’t do it. He thought he could, but he just. He couldn’t.

Every time they spoke about ghosts, he was back in the lab, strapped to a metal table, begging them to stop, refusing to turn human regardless of how hard his body fought to.

He wouldn’t allow it.

Not because he thought it would get worse, but because if he had turned human during their…experiments, he would have died.

Humans could not survive what had been done to him.

He ignored their yelling and made his way out of Arkham, dodging the pitying looks from the workers and guards.

He didn’t remember getting on the subway. He didn’t recall anything about his walk through Park Row.

He only came back to himself far after the sun had set, curled up in the bathtub, eyes dry and tired from watching the door.

~~~~~~

Jazz gently tapped Dan’s boots as she walked towards the kitchen, reminding him that shoes were not allowed on the coffee table.

The large man grumbled but acquiesced.

“So how are the kids?” Jazz asked over her shoulder, flipping the oven light on to check on the roast hidden inside.

“There’s a new upstart in Iowa, calls himself Jupiter. Can’t be older than nine, one of the biggest crybabies I’ve ever had to train.”

Jazz snorted.

“Are we basing this off of their first look at you, or just how they behave in general?”

Dan didn’t answer.

Jazz read between the lines and stifled a laugh.

Little Jupiter had definitely cried upon seeing Dan.

“Did you go see Lian, then?”

“Fuck yeah I saw Lian! She’s so big, no wonder I couldn’t find her in the Realms!”

Jazz listened to Dan wax poetic about Roy’s daughter, letting him get it off his chest. After Lian had died, Dan had been as inconsolable as was possible for the emotionally stunted man. He’d spent countless hours in the Infinite Realms, searching for her, only to return heartbroken that he couldn’t find her.

He was convinced she was so doused with ecto-contamination due to her exposure to him that she would absolutely become a ghost.

But when she’d passed, there hadn’t been a trace of one. No matter how hard he’d searched, he’d never found her.

Because apparently, she’d been alive.

“-Anyways, how’s the twerp doing?”

Jazz tuned back in.

“Sorry?”

“Little me. How’s he doin?”

“Danny’s as tall as you are, Dan.”

Dan appeared at her side and phased his hand through the oven to swipe some roast.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m older. He okay?”

Jazz shrugged.

“He’s…awake. Well enough to be on his own.”

“Fucked up he stays in the same town as Maddie and Jack.”

Jazz shrugged again, a little more helplessly.

“How he chooses to heal is up to him, Dan.”

“He shouldn’t be near them,” Dan growled, causing some of the silverware to vibrate.

Jazz tensed and mentally prepared herself for the exact same argument that had brought Dan to her doorstep.

“Dan-“

“A four year coma, Jazz.”

“-It’s his choice, Dan.”

“They made him retreat into his core.”

“I know.”

“He shouldn’t be anywhere near them!”

“I know!” Jazz shouted, whirling on him, shoulders heaving as she felt her eyes glare a bright luminescent green.

They stared at each other, until ultimately Jazz won again, and Dan looked away.

“I know,” Jazz said, quieter, pulling out her phone to check it one more time, “I know, but the world has changed so much since he went down, and if this is how he wants to explore it then I won’t stop him.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, until the oven let out an obnoxious tune. No one moved.

“…Roast is done,” Dan said helpfully.

Jazz ignored him, eyes on the screen of her phone.

“Hey.”

She reread what Danny had sent her.

“Hey, Jazz-”

“I need to talk to Danny,” she muttered, picking up the oven mitts and tossing them at Dan as she walked towards her bedroom.

After she shut the door quietly behind her, she called her little brother.

The phone didn’t even complete the first ring before he picked up.

“Danny, are you alright?” She knew that he knew going to see their parents had been a terrible idea, and pointing that out would do no one any good.

So instead she focused on him.

“I don’t think so,” Danny said, his voice much smaller than it had any right to be.

Jazz tamped down on her instinctive need to ask a million questions and sat down on her bed instead.

“That’s fine, Danny; it’s perfectly okay to not be okay. Do you need to me to talk?”

“Yes.”

So Jazz did.

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix

Prompts that inspired this entire piece one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Ages are as follows; Dan (31), Jazz (23), Danny (21), Tucker (21), Sam(21), Ellie (19) Bruce (48), Dick (33), Barbara (32), Jason (26), Cass (26), Tim (24), Steph (24), Duke (21), Damian (17) Clark (47), Lois (45), Conner (26), Jon (20) Alfred (Deceased/immortal)

I'm trying a different method of writing, so this will be a bit different. Mostly because for this particular story I'm world-building alongside it.

[bitethedevil]

Can you please do a nsfw alphabet for Raphael?

Raphael NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they’re like after the act)

None, nada. In one of my fics he just sort of gives Tav a pat on the head after fucking her within an inch of her life and I honestly think that’s him being generous with her. He just doesn’t have time for that stuff. In his mind he’s entitled to ruining you, so why should he provide aftercare?

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Asses and thighs all the way. He’s also really into necks, especially biting and marking them for everyone to see.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Okay hear me out. I can rationalize this from a biological viewpoint. Sperm cells don’t do well in heat. He’s a half-devil, half-mortal, which means his cum is hot as the Hells. Here’s my theory: cambions cum more than the normal person to compensate for this disadvantage. Listen it just makes sense, biologically, of course, and not because I’m rationalizing my nasty thoughts about this man.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

It’s not really dirty, but he would see it as such. He really likes being taken care of after. He doesn’t like to show affection himself, but he likes to be cuddled with and shown care towards, though he would never admit it. He would actually start purring if you play with his hair or massage his scalp.

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

I’m ready to fight anyone. Haarlep is not a credible source. You don’t live for 2000+ years and never learn how to fuck properly. He knows what he’s doing (when he feels like it).

F= Favorite position

I actually think that him being ‘below’ with Haarlep is atypical from how he usually would like it with anyone else (because he shows more vulnerability with Haarlep and he can be more lazy). I think with anyone else, he would like to be in complete control by being on top of them, caging them in or pinning them down. Any position where he can growl and whisper into your ear as you fuck is crucial. He likes being able to see your face and your reactions too.

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He likes to tease and say condescending shit while you fuck. He might even laugh at you. Gods save you if you do the same to him though.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He trims but he’s not hairless. He’s got a nice dark happy trail going on.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

If he is romantic, it’s to manipulate you, but he certainly is capable of putting on a convincing performance. He prefers it rough.

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

He’s got Haarlep for that. I really think he’s above touching himself and you won’t get him to do it. He’s weird like that.

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

I think that man has tried everything and I think one would be surprised with all the nasty shit he’s into. That said, surprisingly, I think he’s actually super open to playing into the other person’s kinks. He wants to ruin you, and if he finds out you’re into something specific, he’ll play into that.

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

The bed or the pool or you’ll hear him whine about ruining his expensive furniture. If you’re not in the HoH though, anywhere is good and he has no problem just bending you over the nearest flat surface.

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

Mental stimulation 110%. Sex for him is just as much about power and fucking mentally with the other person as it is about lust for him (if not much more). He wants to be mentally stimulated by playing mind games with you by either luring you into believing whatever he wants you to believe or by breaking you.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Anything that could humiliate him or put him in a position where he feels out of control.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

You will most likely give and not receive much. Don’t get me wrong, he can do oral skillfully, but the bastard sees it as beneath him. He’d much rather see you on your knees.

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

It varies and he doesn’t give any warning before suddenly changing pace.

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

I think he likes to tease, so it’ll be slow until he gets impatient.

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

See: Kinks. I generally think he is open to new things, but he knows what he likes, so it really depends what his goal is at that given moment. If he’s trying to impress, he’s open, but if he’s already got you under his thumb, he’ll just do what he likes.

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Because of my (totally scientific) theory about cambions cumming a lot, I think he doesn’t last for super long, but he can go again very shortly after, and he will. Be prepared for a lot of rounds before he’s fully done with you.

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

His pride doesn’t allow it. Yes, I’m afraid that he’s one of those guys. Ropes, blindfold, chains, whips, and stuff like that are game though.

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He is super unfair. He’s such an asshole. He’s an endless tease and he keeps you on edge. If you’re doing multiple rounds, you won’t cum until he’s done so at least a couple of times. Don’t even get me started on sucking his cock. He does not care if you can breathe, that’s a you problem.

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

He groans, grunts, and growls. Always making deep rumbling sounds and he loves doing it right up against your ear. He yaps too. He loves to dirty talk. Again, it’s the mental stimulation aspect.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: he LOVES when you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he is fully dressed and in control. This man loves to finger you wherever you are and just watching your reactions with a calm and collected demeanor.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

He’s big in both forms. Not uncomfortably big in terms of length, but the girth is what makes it intimidating. It’s thicc, with two cc’s.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

I think he’s not one to lose control over his urges. There’s almost always a goal whenever he sleeps with someone to some extent. I think he is also the type to just fuck because he’s bored or understimulated. He needs to do something constantly and sometimes sex is just the easiest way to get that restlessness out of his system.

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

It’ll happen all of a sudden. After a couple of rounds you’ll think you’re just taking a break. You’ll blink and all of a sudden he’s already packed his bags and taken the trip to SnorkMiMi-land, completely out cold without any warning.

(Thank you for the ask <3)

[kori-xo]

REVERSED ROLES

What if…? You were Spider-Woman, not Miguel. 

Summary: Miguel finds out you're Spider-Woman. (it's a drabble, so it's fr not that long)

— — — — — — 

Miscalculating your silent entrance, your foot catches on the edge of the windowsill, causing you to stumble until you land inside with a thud. 

Jumping up quickly, your eyes flicker around the room, before relaxing as it comes to you. 

Miguel is working late. No one else is here but you. 

Keeping this whole superhero identity thing from him was no easy task, that's for sure. I mean, how would you explain to your boyfriend that you had a bleeding gash going down your shoulder when you were supposed to be out visiting your Aunt May? 

Putting that thought on the backburner, because that gash really does hurt. A lot. 

Groaning, you begin to rid yourself of the upper half of your suit, pulling your arms out of the sleeves and lazily shoving it down until it was bunched up just above your chest. 

You grab your phone, and the first aid kit from the closet, and make your way over to the connecting bathroom, flicking on the light switch. 

Your eyes narrow as they adjust to the sudden bright lights, a sigh pushing past your lips as you toss the first aid onto the bathroom sink before pulling up the latches, searching for the needed tools to patch up this wound. 

It's solved like clockwork, and within a matter of minutes, you manage to stop all the bleeding until there's just a large, angry red sign of your late night escapades. 

For the record, superheroes should definitely be entitled to financial compensation for this sort of thing. 

You decide to warm up a washcloth, to press to and soothe the ache before applying any sort of bandaging. When you wring it out, you ball it up accordingly and press it to your shoulder, holding it there as you sit on the lid of the toilet, your head leaning against the wall. 

The moment you relaxed, you felt your eyes get heavy as they started to fall, hearing and senses slowly fading in and out as sleep tried to welcome you into its clutches. 

And of course, who were you to fight it? 

Every once in a while, you felt a little tingle in the back of your brain, like the alert of your spider-sense, but you brushed it aside both times, assuring your instincts that you were home and safe where you were. 

And then, all of a sudden, there's a clatter to the floor. 

The sound makes your eyes fly open, and as you glance over to the doorway of the bathroom, whole heartedly expecting to see someone who had broken into your house, nothing could have prepared you for who it really was. 

Your boyfriend, Miguel, standing there with eyes wide and jaw fallen in shock. 

The clatter was his work tablet, your brain analyzed after a moment, but in your half-sleep state, you were too busy wondering why he looked so surprised to see you sitting on the toilet in the bathroom. 

And then it hit you. 

You were still in your suit. 

Your brain immediately goes into panic mode as your eyes now take the same expression of his, trying to figure out what to say. 

Sure, the suit was bunched up at the top, but the rest of it was on full display, from the engraved webbing down to the symbol on your chest, there was no mistaking this, no matter how much lying you'd attempt on him. 

Pressing your lips together in an awkward smile/grimace, you break the silence between the two of you by uttering a handful of words. 

“...I can explain.”

[fanaticsnail]

"(Hongo) for Kissing Booth please"

Hello Snail 😘

I really like this idea of Kissing Booth 😍😍

You’re great, have a nice day 💖💖

The Kissing Booth: Hongo for Akagami-no-Laney

Word Count: 800+

Notes: Hongo is such a delight to write for. This has given me a chance to explore what he'd be like in the request you've submitted for me, Laney! Now, come and get smooched by your doctor!

A loud rambunctious gaggle of barked laughter eclipsed the sweet song played by the musicians. The melody was half-sung, half-shouted by the misfits in front of you. You shook your head, rolling your eyes beneath your blinding shroud as you turned your head away from them with a soft pout. 

The group seemed to ignore you, their voices lifting all the higher and crying out in harmony the song currently played aloud. Interlacing your arms in disdain, you tapped at your bicep with your index finger and gently counted down the seconds until your shift at the booth were to come to a close. 

Just as the troop began to echo their voices away from you, you heard the soft crackle of Berry being placed into the glass jar beside you. You leaned your head towards the sound before upturning your chin to a potential guest. 

“I don't want anything' from you or nothin’,” the masculine voice whispered down at you, “Just thought I'd apologize for the singin’. Our first mate usually keeps ‘em in line, but he's off resupplying the ship before joinin’ us here.” You offer him a soft smile and a nod in response. 

“I see,” your humming voice taunts up at him, “And you're not the type to join in on the merriment?” 

“I join in just fine,” he scoffs at you, his foot gently colliding with the unoccupied barstool in response, “Just thought I'd offer you compensation for my captain’s horrible singin' voice.” You giggle at his confession, his own voice chuckling in response. You lull your head to the side towards the jar, gently gesturing with your chin down at it. 

“If you've given me Berry, you're entitled to a kiss should you like one,” you nod towards the stool, the shroud over your eyes halting your ability to get a read on the person granting you their Berry and apologies. 

“I-... uh-...” he began, stuttering over his words before taking a moment to consider your suggestion, “...I suppose one kiss wouldn't exactly hurt.” He chuckled, sitting down on the stool opposite to you and lacing one of his knees between yours opposite his. 

“So I just-...” he gently brushes his hand over your forearm and traces it up towards your chin, “I just kiss you? Just like that?” You shake your head with a soft giggle as you feel him shift all the closer. 

“Just like that,” you confirm with a soft nod, “Nothing more to it than your lips and mine.” You heard a subtle scoff in his hum in response. His body shifted closer, the shuffle of fabrics and the legs of the stool scuffing the floor had your ears pricking up in response.

His breath whispered over your jaw, your body involuntarily shifting up to reveal more of your skin to him. A soft press of his lips brushed over the bone before slowly tracing up towards your cheek. The trail left behind by soft and subtle kisses left the rise of goose flesh at the back of your neck, the anticipation of what his lips would feel like atop your own igniting a spark within you.

Turning your head towards him, you immediately collect his lips with your own. His smile was the first thing you felt on your lips, a soft trace of subtle joy in his apprehensive kiss. He parted his lips, coaxing you to open more of yourself up to him by angling his chin and turning his face. 

The brush of his tongue softly swirled at your lower lip as one hand rested securely on your shoulder, and the other moved to cup your face. His thumb teased at the outer corner of the blindfold, prompting you to retract a little from his lips and raise your hands up to tug it down. 

Chuckling into your lips, he pressed one more lengthy hum against you before retreating from you entirely. His lips left a lingering tingle against your own, feeling your breath had been all but taken from you by his skillful kiss. 

“If you feel like you want more from me at the end of your shift,” he chuckled, gently caressing your cheek before rising to his feet, “Follow the redhead with the horrible singin' voice. He’s likely to not let up anytime soon.”

You giggle in response, raising your hand gently up to squeeze his in response. 

“I’ll find you,” you smile in his direction, feeling his lips gently descend and find purchase against your forehead. He turned away from you, wandering off to find the horrid musings and drunken jig several members of the crew were partaking in while encouraging the band to play louder. 

Hongo should’ve been more miserable at his crew’s juvenile attitude, but all he could think about was you lips on his, and how much he wanted to taste you on him once more.

[eroguron0nsense]

Doflamingo, Love, and Arrested Development

This is mostly just me paraphrasing other Doffy metas and comments I've made but I kinda feel like the real tragedy behind Doflamingo's warped psychology kind of gets missed by people who focus more on his trauma in and of itself and get lost in discourses about having sympathy for characters despite their complete lack of morality and disregard for everyone (perfectly possible), or whether Doflamingo has any redeeming characteristics or genuine concern for anyone or anything outside of himself (he doesn't).

Doffy's story is fundamentally a tragedy, but not because of his childhood traumas or how drastic and painful they are; plenty of One Piece characters experience severe abuses or incomprehensible loss, but they're ultimately stories of how to find hope in the face of the incomprehensibly traumatic, or the salvation/redemptive power of love. Even characters who don't necessarily see their goals fulfilled (see Fisher Tiger, Pedro, Ashura Doji, EGGHEAD SPOILERS etc) aren't fundamentally tragic ones in the way that, say, Ace is, in that they die having fulfilled their goals to the best of their ability and knowing that people will carry on where they left off, even if they don't get to see the liberation they hoped for. Rosinante's story isn't a tragedy because he dies satisfied that he's given hope to someone he loves deeply (and to some extent tried to make amends for some of the guilt he clearly feels for participating in an institution that ruined that child's life).

Doffy, on the other hand, is a never-ending downward spiral from day 1. He was indoctrinated by evil people from birth and never has it addressed (his parents, for all their talk about living more simply than the Celestial Dragons, NEVER actually say "slavery is bad" to Doffy when he asks them why they don't own people any more and I have my own theory on why), who then suffers unbelievable trauma and has his sense of loss–both of his "birthright" and his innocence/ childhood–weaponized for evil. And he spends the rest of his life in this semi-permanent state of arrested development and violent entitlement. He can't have the station and privilege of the Celestial Dragons to... own slaves and live in luxury, so he builds a kingdom where HE reigns supreme and everyone who crosses him is killed or enslaved as a toy. His mother dies and he kills his father, so he assembles a cult-like "family" to try and compensate for the one he's lost/destroyed, but he doesn't and likely doesn't know how to love them in any meaningful way beyond being possessive of them and seeing them as extensions of himself (e.g. he's willing to kill anyone who makes fun of Pica because no one's allowed to antagonize his "family", but he also orders Monet to do a suicide bombing in Punk Hazard, and he's willing to sacrifice one of them for the eternal life surgery, etc). I think that might be why, even though he should know Corazon has every reason to hate and fear him, he's still so eager to take his brother in when they reunite as adults–he shouldn't trust him, and he eventually comes to suspect him of treason, but he's desperate to have a family and Corazon is emblematic of something he wants but can never have because he's a cruel stunted person who knows nothing but entitlement and violence and cannot process the idea that anything has value or merits selflessness and sacrifice.

Everything Doflamingo does is defined by trying to replace or compensate for the family and privilege he was "supposed" to have, but he doesn't love anyone or even understand how real love works because he's been taught to have no regard for human life and all he knows is that love = absolute servitude, that his interests are ultimately more important than the wellbeing of his "family" members, and that betrayal means death. And far be it from me to sympathize with a fallen aristocrat's deranged revenge power fantasies, but it does demonstrate how oppressive institutions inevitably deprive their own beneficiaries of some of their humanity, and consequently fuck them for life. Doffy craves genuine affection and has had his capacity for it permanently stunted by his former class station and indoctrination.

This craving for love combined with an inability to actually feel it in any meaningful way factors into why he's so obsessed with Law, who he kept hardcore projecting onto in the flashbacks and who he expected to turn out just like him. His brother chose Law over Doflamingo and even his undercover mission out of love, and for all his traumas and hangups, Law can find his own crew and friends who he cares about, and he's able to live on and find meaning even after losing EVERYTHING because Corazon genuinely loved him enough to die protecting him. Doffy, on the other hand, is doomed to a loveless, misanthropic, cruel existence where he tortures countless people to compensate, but he can't replace what he's lost and he'll never find it. It's not what Corazon would have wanted, but Law fighting for and honouring Corazon's memory in everything he does enrages Doffy, who will never be able to understand why they cared for each other so deeply, and why both of them are integral to his downfall.

[callofdudes]

AleRudy ✨incorrect quotes✨ ft: Valeria, Ghost, and Soap.

Alejandro: As top in this relationship, I think we should-

Rodolfo: I can't believe you're pulling rank on me.

-------

Rodolfo: *chokes on something*

Alejandro: Jeez, Rodolfo, don't die on us.

Rodolfo: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

--------

Rodolfo: Here are two pictures. One of them is your bedroom, and the other is a garbage dumpster. Can you tell which is which?

Alejandro:

Alejandro: This one is the dumpster.

Rodolfo: They’re both your bedroom.

-------

Rodolfo: Do you think sex without love is a sin?

Alejandro: If it is, I’ll see you in hell.

-------

Alejandro: You need to stop swearing so much.

Rodolfo: Shut the fuck up.

Alejandro: Yeah, that's not how you do it.

Rodolfo: Alright sorry. It's just that it's hard not to swear. The words just creep up on me when I least expect it.

Alejandro: Now now, don't be like that. Just replace the swear words with 'beep' and you'll be fine.

Rodolfo: Shit the beep up.

Alejandro:

Rodolfo: SHUT, DAMMIT! I MEANT SHUT!

-------

Alejandro: Yes, I'm adopting Rodolfo and you cowards can't tell me no!

-------

Rodolfo: Alejandro...

Alejandro: I can tell by the tone of your voice that you are disappointed. Alas, I must further disappoint you by affirming how little I give a fuck.

-------

Alejandro: This is horrible! This is the most humiliating thing to ever happen to me!

Rodolfo: Oh-? Even more humiliating than-

Alejandro: We are not doing this!

-------

Valeria: Enough! How dare you mock me in such a manner!?

Rodolfo: Well. How would you like me to mock you? I take requests.

-------

Alejandro: Well, has Valeria been wrong before?

Rodolfo: How wide are we willing to open this up?

-------

Alejandro: Five little monkeys jumping on the bed. One fell off and…

Valeria: Was diagnosed with mesothelioma.

Alejandro: Mamma called the doctor and the doctor said…

Rodolfo: You might be entitled to financial compensation if he or a loved one dies.

------

Rodolfo: Two years ago, I married my best friend.

Rodolfo: Valeria is still mad about it, but me and Alejandro were drunk and thought it was funny.

-------

Valeria, to Alejandro: You know, Rodolfo can be really aggressive, so it's important to take all the necessary precautions when approaching.

Valeria: *blows airhorn at Rodolfo* GET FUCKED!

------

Valeria, washing the dishes: Who the fuck used this pan??

Valeria: Wait. I the fuck used this pan…

Rodolfo: It was you the fuck.

Valeria: It was I the fuck…

Alejandro: Who cooks rice in a pan?

Rodolfo: She the fuck.

-------

Valeria: Fun Fact! The average person will walk by 36 murderers in their lifetime.

Alejandro: I like how this is a "fun" fact.

Rodolfo: It's fun because they didn't decide to murder you.

-------

Rodolfo: You really believe in Valeria?

Alejandro: Luckily, she believes in herself enough for the both of us.

-------

Alejandro: Guys where did Valeria go?

Rodolfo: She got arrested.

Alejandro: How the hell-

Valeria: *bursts in through the window* The cops are after me, I thought it would be fun to steal crackers and throw them at people.

-------

Rodolfo, watching Alejandro with the new recruits he's fond of: Ugh

Valeria, watching as well: You know...

Valeria: He doesn't love you. You could always join me and my cartel, we'd treat you better than he does.

Rodolfo: You think I want to join your peacock feather spreading, egotistical little boy band??

Valeria: Ok, sorry I asked

Rodolfo: Yeah, be sorry 😤

-------

Rodolfo: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Valeria: What’s up your ass this morning!

Alejandro: *walks in* ...Hey.

Valeria: Hmm… nevermind.

Rodolfo: WAIT NO!

-------

Ghost: They... well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff?

Soap: Um, murder???

Alejandro: Adventuring!

Rodolfo: Tuesday.

-------

Rodolfo: I give up. I am so tired.

Soap: Get the emergency supply!

Ghost: *carries Alejandro and places him in front of Rodolfo*

Alejandro: *smiles*

Rodolfo: AND I AM BACK BABY, LET’S GOOO

-------

Ghost: Christmas is cancelled.

Rodolfo: You can't cancel a holiday.

Ghost: Keep it up, Rodolfo, and you'll lose New Year's too.

Rodolfo: What does that mean?

Ghost: Alejandro, take New Year's away from Rodolfo.

-------

Alejandro: What’s up with Soap? He's been laying on the floor for like….an hour now?

Rodolfo: He's just a little overwhelmed.

Alejandro: Why?

Rodolfo: Ghost smiled at him.

-------

Rodolfo: I am darkness. I am an power. I am your worst nightmare. I could kill a man in more ways than you can imagine. I am the night. I am fury, I am a weapon, I am-

Soap: A doll.

Ghost: A cinnamon roll.

Alejandro: A sweetheart.

Rodolfo:

Rodolfo: ...stop it.

-------

Rodolfo: What are you getting Soap for the holidays?

Ghost: I don't know. It's kind of hard buying a gift for your partner when they already got everything they could've ever wanted when they married you. So I'm not sure yet.

Alejandro: I'm getting Soap a divorce lawyer.

-------

Rodolfo, opening his arms to greet Alejandro after coming home late: Mi amor!!

Alejandro: What's going on?

Rodolfo: I don't know what you mean love, we should go inside now

Alejandro: Where's the body??

Rodolfo: ...

Rodolfo: I don't know what you're talking about-

Alejandro: I'll get a shovel...

I made a few of these up myself, and I'm proud. Giving the babies the chaotic love they deserve.

[sneakyboymerlin]

Worst most tragic quote of any show ever:

“Some men are born to be kings… I was born to serve you, Arthur.”

How everyone else isn’t horribly unsettled by that line of words fuckin’ astounds me.

HE DOESN’T SEE HIMSELF AS A PERSON!

And he tries to twist it into a positive thing!

It’s the fact that he suddenly believes that anyone is born to be lesser or greater than anyone else. The equality he hoped for at the original round table? No sign of that here. He’s been so socially abused that he’s resigned himself to being “less than.” It’s been impressed upon him again and again that he’s predestined to be Arthur’s inferior.

He doesn’t realize anymore that Arthur wasn’t born superior to him, with a grand entitlement to the monarchy’s hoarded wealth. He doesn’t realize that the scraps he has to his own name are disproportionate compensation for the work he does! He doesn’t seem to recognize that leadership should be divorced from concepts of unlimited power and greater wealth, that a leader should not be “above” their subjects, except when it comes to his own power and leadership. Then, he’s stopping people from bowing to him, and speaking to his followers as equals. But when Arthur expects and enforces the rule that he is treated with greater respect than anyone else, treated to greater luxuries, and that his work is ~more important~ so others (like his servants) don’t deserve their share of the wealth, that’s seen as completely normal and uncorrupt. Arthur’s an over-glorified CEO, and Merlin is placed on the lowest tier. And no one sees anything wrong with this political model?

He genuinely believes that he is Arthur’s inferior, morally and spiritually, and that the position he was born into (as a poor farmer, then servant, and “monster”) was intended to reflect that, as some sort of payment for his ~innate flaws~. He believes that Arthur specifically was born king because he is superior, that he was born into his insurmountable political/social power & wealth because he is somehow more deserving of it, when Arthur is just like any other person ever.

And it’s even wilder because he doesn’t think this about Uther or Morgana! It’s like Stockholm Syndrome. And what’s worse is that the narrative glorifies this perspective, doesn’t treat it as the horror that it really is, doesn’t engage with it as an idea that needs to be challenged.

It’s so different from how he approached his destiny in seasons 1-4, it’s arguably just out of character, plain and simple. He used to have some fight in him, he had a sense of self (even if he was lacking in self-worth, which is why he was so susceptible to this). He knew that he deserved to be seen as a person, as capable, as dignified. This negative development in his character, that he believes he doesn’t get to simply exist as a human being, that he only exists to serve the needs of others, while everyone else gets to just be a person without their very existence needing to be justified… it’s disturbing! How do people romanticize this? He’s an immortal martyr. When he can’t die for his cause, he gives up his life.

Merlin is more than a weapon, more than a shield, more than a thing. He wasn’t born to be used! He’s just a person, he deserves to simply be. Everyone does.

I hope he learned to after Arthur and Gaius died.