#i’m crying… how many times must i post this in order to show up in the search results…
Ok so this is gonna be a long post about something that doesn’t affect too many people on here but honestly it’s pretty big deal. Today NCARB, the organization that administers the Architecture Registration Exams, which all licensure candidates must pass in order to become a Registered Architect in the U.S., announced that they are retiring their ‘rolling clock’ policy. Since 2009, and up until now, the rolling clock policy stipulated that once a candidate began taking exams, they had 5 years in which to pass all divisions (the current version of the A.R.E. is 6 divisions that cover literally hundreds of topics). If a candidate failed to take all their exams within 5 years, they would lose any exams they had previously passed - a nightmare scenario considering how difficult it is to pass any one division. In the past month, licensure candidates on the A.R.E. forum discussed the enormous burden the rolling clock places on breastfeeding mothers, new parents in general, and folks who go through serious life-changing events. This in a profession where the graduating classes are nearly equal along gender lines, in some cases even skewing slightly more female, yet licensed architects in this country are 77% male. (For context, graduating from a university architecture program is a requirement for licensure, as is passing all the exams.)
The whole debate and ultimate decision also shows just how far we still have to go in terms of generating an understanding of systemic barriers. Some contributors to the discussion accused those voicing their grievances and concerns over the rolling clock as ‘crying wolf’ and ‘threatening NCARB with discrimination if they don’t get special treatment,’ which is sad and disheartening. Disheartening that many people don’t see how something like a rolling clock, which is not a feature of any other professional examination in the U.S. as far as I’m aware, by its very design is a high barrier of entry that has no good reason to exist. And sad because they seem to think that removing these barriers is ‘muddying the waters,’ or some other purity nonsense. In my mind, as long as the *content* of the exams themselves remains high quality (and in some cases, increases in quality... a rant for another time), all other aspects surrounding the exam *must* be made as accessible as possible. Removing these types of barriers isn’t hurting the groups or hierarchies they (tacitly) propped up, it’s a benefit to *everyone* by being the first step in diversifying the profession! 
In a somewhat shocking turn of events, it appears that NCARB was actually listening because today, they announced that not only are they retiring the rolling clock policy, they’ve also said they will re-instate previous passed exams that candidates had lost due to the rolling clock. This is a HUGE win for the profession and goes a long way to removing barriers that kept professionals, sometimes with decades of experience, from practicing architecture. It’s honestly something I never thought would happen, but I’m incredibly grateful and excited for what this means for the future of the profession.
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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years
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am i warm enough for you?
➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions
➳ wc ;; 5.6k..
➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.
bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.
➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3
this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds
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It’s hazy.
A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.
It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.
It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.
And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.
Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.
Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.
Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.
Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.
It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter
Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.
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The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.
You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.
Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.
“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.
“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.
You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.
“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.
Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.
“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?
“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.
“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”
You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.
“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”
More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.
“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.
A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.
“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.
“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”
You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?
You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.
“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”
“Go fuck yourself,”
“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”
“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”
Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.
“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”
You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.
Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.
It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.
You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.
You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.
It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.
Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.
You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.
When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.
It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.
Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.
You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.
It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.
When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.
And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.
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Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.
You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.
But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.
But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.
In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.
Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.
All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.
But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.
You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.
“What the fuck is this shit?,”
Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.
You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.
“...It’s you,”
You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.
You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.
“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”
The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.
His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,”  he admits.
The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.
“I didn’t think so either,”
When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.
“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.
“You couldn’t before?,”
This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.
“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”
Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.
“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”
There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.
“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.
“No, I don’t,”
He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.
“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”
His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.
“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.
“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.
“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.
“Nice to meet you too,”
Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.
Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.
You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.
Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.
But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.
Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.
You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.
But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.
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It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.
Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.
When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.
“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.
“Why’re you so drunk?,”
“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.
You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.
“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”
“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”
He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.
“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”
“Are you some kind of moron?,”
You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.
“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”
Bakugo sighs tiredly.
“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”
You seem surprised again.
“..You don’t?,”
Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.
“Not at all,”
“What do you..”
“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.
You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.
Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.
It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.
That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning  on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.
“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.
He chuckles.
“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.
“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.
And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.
That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.
Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.
But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart  in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.
After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.
When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.
Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.
And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.
“You’re so mean,”
“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.
And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.
“I love you, actually,”
He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.
His voice is gravelly when he speaks.
“Yeah, shit - me too,”
Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.
When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.
His voice feels different in real life. You  cough.
“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”
“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”
And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.
When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.
You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.
When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.
His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.
“Come in,”
“Ah.. right,”
You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.
“So -,”
Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.
You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.
“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.
When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.
Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.
Maybe you don’t realize that he had.
He’d been waiting for you all this time.
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A Glorious Moment in Sakaar
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Summary: You’ve always disliked Loki, but when you end up stranded with him on an unknown planet, you put your hatred aside in order to work together. Turns out, the only thing you really hate is how much you actually like him. 
Warnings: weapons, violence, enemies to lovers, implied smut
A/N: Had this in my drafts and just decided to post it... I’m definitely in a Loki mood on this fine day haha. 
I hope you all enjoy and as always, feedback is appreciated :)
Loki Masterlist
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Out of all the people in the world who you could’ve gotten stranded with on an unknown, trash planet, Loki is the last person you’d wish to accompany you. 
As soon as the two of you get thrown off the Bifrost and land on random dirty roads, he speaks. “Well, this looks rather unpleasant.” 
Rolling your eyes, you don’t bother to respond, instead opting to scan the area around you. Wherever you landed, it’s heavily polluted. 
“I think I’d rather have ended up in Hel,” Loki complains, his hands on his hips as he surveys with you. 
“I wish you had.” 
Loki looks over at you and chuckles. “What? Don’t want to be stranded here with your favorite God?” 
You pretend to frantically look around. “What do you mean? I don’t see Thor anywhere.” 
“Very funny.” 
“I know I am,” you say before smirking at him and walking away. Loki is quick to match your pace. 
“Let’s try to find some type of civilization and figure out an escape plan.” 
Continuing to walk, you head towards a tall skyscraper-like building that you see in the distance. “Already on it.” You point ahead to show Loki. 
Loki scoffs. “No need to point. I noticed it a while ago.” 
“Sure you did.” 
“I did. I’m a God for crying out loud. I sense things long before-”
A knife sits at the base of your throat, stopping you in place. You look over at Loki who’s in the same predicament. 
“Loki?” you ask before you’re pulled back harshly, the knife lightly grazing your skin. Loki growls, lunging towards you. 
“Hurt them and you’ll all suffer merciless deaths by my hand.” 
You gasp at Loki’s protectiveness. Is it possible he cares for you? No, don’t even think about it. You hate this man. Remember?
The man behind Loki laughs at him before looking over at his partner. “I think the Grandmaster would like this one.” 
The person behind you nods. “Let’s take ‘em in.” 
You share one last glance with Loki before a bag is thrown over your head, preventing you from seeing anything else.
The bag’s removed from your head and you squint, your eyes adjusting to the harsh overhead lighting. You’re strapped to a chair, seated right next to Loki. 
In front of you is a man. He’s tall in nature, just like Loki, and he’s smiling at the two of you. 
“Where the hell are we?” You ask, struggling against the restraints. 
The unknown man walks up to you before speaking. “Now, there’s no reason to do that. I’m just simply feeling you out before deciding whether to kill you or not.” 
Again, Loki speaks up, surprisingly coming to your defense. “You’ll have to get through me before you even think of touching them.”
The man laughs at this and turns his attention onto Loki. “You must be the one they said I’d like… Seems like they were right. I do like you.” He claps his hands together. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You’re on my planet, Sakaar. I’m what they call the Grandmaster and usually with newcomers, I’d either kill them or throw them into the pits… which I guess is also death, but that’s not the point! The point is I like you two… especially you.” He points at Loki. “So, great news! You’re welcome to stay, I mean once people land here, they never really leave…” He awkwardly smiles at that, not knowing what else to say. 
You look over at Loki, who’s already staring your way. The two of you gaze at each other silently before the Grandmaster once again claps his hands. “Let’s get the cuffs off these two!” 
Once the cuffs are opened, you rub your wrists and stand up. The Grandmaster motions for the two of you to get away. “Go! Go mingle and have some fun!” 
You look around the room and notice a gathering of people a few feet away. They’re all drinking and dancing, seemingly having the time of their lives. 
You grab Loki’s arm and guide him towards the crowd. “C’mon, we gotta find a busy area to talk.” 
Loki pulls his arm from your grasp. “Shouldn’t we find somewhere quiet to talk privately?” 
You roll your eyes. “No, because then someone might hear us.” 
“So instead, we’re to talk in the middle of a gathering?” 
Shaking your head in irritation, you gesture towards the group of people. “They all seem drunk! Sounds like the perfect opportunity to blend in and discuss.” 
Loki sighs. “Very well. I need a drink first.” 
As he walks towards the bar, you once again grab his arm, stopping him in place. “What’re you doing?” 
“I just told you. I’m getting a drink.” 
“We need to be level-headed for this.” 
He scoffs. “Darling, I really think you’ve forgotten that I’m a God. I can’t get drunk.” 
“Yes, you can. I’ve witnessed it multiple times.” 
He shakes his head. “I was just full.” 
“That’s not the point! Just please-” You look towards the dancefloor. “Dance with me.” 
“Pardon me?”
Instead of answering, you grab his hand and drag him over to the other dancers, pulling him flush against you, your back to his chest. You swear you hear Loki gasp as you sway your hips against him. 
“What’re you doing?” His mouth is right next to your ear, his hands moving to grip your waist tightly. Your body heats up with his touch and you want to scream over its betrayal. 
You turn your head slightly to look up at him. “We need to blend in.” 
As he stares down at you, you get lost in his eyes. They’re an exquisite, light blue, pulling you in and making you forget about the situation around you. Erasing those thoughts from your mind, you focus on the plan. “I say we find where their weapons are placed. Steal some and then find a ship to escape back to Asgard on.”
“Your plan sounds impossibly easy.” 
“Maybe it will be.” 
“You know just as well as myself that it won’t be. But, I’ll go along with it. It’s not the worst of plans you’ve thought of and I fear we don’t have many other options.” 
“Gee, thanks.” You spin around in his arms so you’re now facing him, chest to chest. Loki’s staring down at you, his eyes blazing. One of his hands moves to your face, grabbing your chin and tilting your face upwards. He licks his lips, his tongue sliding out to swipe across his bottom lip. You watch and you can’t help but wonder what his mouth would feel like against yours. 
He leans down until his face is only inches from yours and you find yourself panting with a neediness you haven’t felt in a long time. Loki’s staring at your lips, ready to claim them for himself-
You remember where you are and pull away quickly, putting some distance between the two of you. “What’re you doing?” 
Loki grins. “Just blending in, darling. You didn’t seem to mind.” 
Trying to steady your rising heart rate, you take a deep breath. “Let’s just go find their weapons.” 
Loki gestures for you to walk in front of him. “After you.”
Finding and stealing weapons turned out to be easier than you thought. Loki managed to grab multiple knives, as well as the same giant gun that you did. 
Now, you’re heading towards the ship’s garage, intending to steal the best one you come across. You’re in an elevator, heading up to the top floor. As the doors are about to open, Loki puts his arm out in front of you. “I hear voices on the other side. Follow my lead.” 
You nod your head. The doors open, revealing two guards with guns. In an instant, Loki has them both on the ground, knives stabbed into their chests. 
He turns to look at you and grins. “Told you they’d come in handy.” 
“You just wanted to show off.” 
“For you? Always.” 
You roll your eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today and follow Loki towards a large, circular ship. “You think they’d have more guards in this area.” 
Loki walks over to a station pressed against the wall, searching for the ship’s key. “You’d think, but let’s not stick around to find out.” Once he locates the key, he picks it up. “Ah, got it!” 
The elevator opens back up, revealing ten new guards. 
“Uh, Loki?” 
Loki turns just in time to see five guards running full speed at him. He laughs before throwing the gun to the floor, placing the ship key in his pants, and pulling out two knives. “Well, hello. This is going to be fun.” 
Across the room, you’re shooting at the other five guards, backing up as they move forward. You manage to knock three of them to the ground and drop the gun as the other two come running at you, full speed. 
“Y/N!” Loki yells. 
You turn to see him throwing you a knife and you catch it midair. Turning back to the two guards, you smirk. “Unfortunately for you two, I’m rather skilled with knives.” 
“Not as skilled as myself though, just to be clear!” 
You chuckle at Loki’s comment. “That’s what he tells himself to sleep better at night.” 
Right after you say those words, you’re lunging at the guards, slicing your knife into one of their thighs. They hiss out in pain and you use the opportunity to grab them, placing your knife at the base of their neck. The other guard rushes you and you kick out, hitting them square in the stomach before dragging your knife across the captured guard’s neck, causing him to fall to the floor. You fall down and roll over, jumping back onto your feet before the other guard can tackle you. 
Maneuvering around the guard, you swipe your leg out, tripping him up, causing him to fall to the floor. You roll onto the floor behind him and wrap your thighs around his neck, effectively cutting off his air supply. Once he’s knocked out, you get back up, wiping sweat off the top of your eyebrow. Loki is staring at you, an impressed look on his face. You stare back at him, admiring how he looks. He’s leaning against the ship, his hair disheveled with his arms crossed over his chest. The guards he fought are scattered across the floor, each one either dead or knocked out. 
He walks up to you, his tall frame towering over you. “It was rather hot to see you beat up those guards.” His hand reaches down towards your face, his thumb wiping a few spots of blood off your cheek. 
You close your eyes, trying to get a hold of yourself. When you reopen them, Loki is back over towards the ship, looking at you. “Ready, darling?” 
Letting out a shaky breath, you will your legs to follow him onto the ship.
A gentle shake to your shoulder wakes you up. Slowly opening your eyes, you come face to face with Loki, who’s looking down at you with a small smile on his face, his hand still resting on your shoulder. You stare at his hand and he pulls it away before clearing his throat. 
“We’re almost back at Asgard.” 
You nod. “How long was I out?” 
“Two hours? I didn’t want to interrupt since it was the first time you looked peaceful in years.” 
Getting up, you glare at him. “Has anyone ever told you how charming you are?” 
“As a matter of fact, yes. Quite a few.” 
“I’m shocked.” You walk to the front of the ship, taking a seat in the pilot’s chair. “This thing on autodrive?” 
Loki moves to take a seat next to you. “No, I figured I’d let it go so we can crash into the nearest crater and die. Put you out of your misery.” 
“Out of my misery?” 
“Yes, since you so clearly hate being around me.” 
Sighing, you turn the chair so you’re facing him. “Who said I hated you?”
Loki mimics you. “Nobody. I can just tell.” 
“I don’t hate you.” Well, maybe a little. But, not for the reason he thought.
He raises an eyebrow. “No?” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “It’s fine if you do. Most individuals I’ve encountered end up hating me.” 
“Well, I’m not like most individuals.” 
He smiles at that. “No, you’re most certainly not.” 
Nervous, you start picking at the arm of the chair. It’s Loki, for crying out loud. The man you can’t stand. So, why is he making you feel this way?
“You almost kissed me in Sakaar. Why?”
The question leaves your mouth before you can even think about the consequences. However, Loki doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he seems excited by the question, his eyes lit up in amusement. 
“I told you. We needed to blend in.” 
“We were already blending in by dancing. No one was even sparing us a second glance.” 
“No? Well, maybe I just wanted to kiss you then. For my own pleasure.” 
His confession spills over you like a bucket of ice water. Your body is both hot and cold, feeling too much at once. 
Your mouth slightly opens as you gasp quietly. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” 
All of a sudden, Loki’s moves closer to you. Too close. You can feel his breath wash over your face as his hand slowly crawls up your arm. “I may lie quite frequently, but when it comes to you, I only tell the truth.” 
With a surge of confidence, you grip the front of his leathered shirt. “Prove it to me then.” 
He growls before smashing his mouth onto yours. His lips are everything you’ve ever imagined. Soft and unmistakingly yours. 
“You’re mine now, darling. All mine,” he whispers into the kiss. Grabbing your waist, he pulls you onto his lap, your legs dangling off the sides of the chair. “Say it. Say you’re mine.” 
“I’m yours,” you manage to say, moaning when he bites down on your lower lip. 
After one more kiss, he rests his forehead against yours. “You and I, darling, have a lot of catching up to do when we get back.” He runs his fingers over your thigh. “The things I’m going to do to you. You better prepare yourself.” 
Gulping, you shiver at his promise. This ship couldn’t get you to Asgard fast enough. You’ll let him ruin you, from the inside-out. But, only him. Only Loki. You grin at the thought before leaning in to kiss him again.
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gimme-mor · 2 years
This will be a long post.
Please take the time to read this post in its entirety and truly reflect on the message I am trying to send before commenting. My goal is to use my background in Gender and Women’s Studies to deconstruct the comments I have seen on Tumblr and Twitter and bring awareness to the ACOTAR fandom.
The reason I am tagging “Elriel” in this post is to call attention to the arguments in the Elriel fandom that: weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions about Elain’s character and her relationship with Lucien; victimize Elain’s character in fandom discussions; and coddle Elain’s character, which limits fandom discussions about her narrative development and prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions in the same way that the fandom holds other characters accountable for their actions and inactions. It is for these reasons that I WILL NOT remove the “Elriel” tag from this post because all of the above points contribute to the toxic discourse surrounding Elain’s character.
I urge those who use these arguments to understand their implications, why they are problematic, regardless of intent, and reexamine their contributions to the ACOTAR fandom. I WILL NOT tolerate anyone who tries to twist my words and say I am attacking people and their personal shipping preferences. In fact, I AM CRITIQUING THE ARGUMENTS THEMSELVES NOT THE PEOPLE USING THE ARGUMENTS.
Also, I highly encourage the Elriel fandom to read this post because it addresses how the concept of choice as an argument enables arguments to exploit social justice and feminist languge in order to vilify Elucien shippers, among other problematic things.
Elain Archeron is one of the most polarizing characters in the ACOTAR fandom. Though opinions about Elain vary, arguments in the Elriel fandom cite society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters as the reason behind the hate, and this belief is used to provide an explanation as to why other characters in the series are favored over her. In the series, Elain is portrayed in a wholly positive light and this image carries over into the Elriel fandom, painting her character as a good and kind female who has been unfairly wronged and a victim of circumstances that were out of her control. When arguments in the Elriel fandom oppose other viewpoints in the fandom, they fall into one of three categories:
Category 1: Weaponize Elain’s femalehood to shame real life people for their opinions
Maybe people who hate Elain are just jealous of her in a weird way similar to when someone hates the pretty, nice, and charming girl in school just because she is too perfect
Disliking Elain is misogynistic
What happened to feminism? What happened to women supporting women? What happened to she can say no? All of that disappears the second you force Elain to be with Lucien
Elain antis are misogynistic
All Eluciens are Elain antis
Antis claiming they’re feminists when in reality they hate on Elain and Feyre but love Nesta
Elain antis are such sore losers. Y’all were that bunch of people who could not get over being rejected from hanging out with the cool kids so y’all are projecting your hatred towards pretty people now to get validation
I don’t get how Elain’s love for gardening equals boring for some people. I’m sorry your misogyny finds traditionally feminine activities boring
Why are you attacking a female? What did Elain do? Where are your feminist voices?
The fandom is misogynistic towards Elain
If people loved Elain they would ship Elriel
If you hate Elain it says a lot about your feelings toward women
If you hate Elain because she has no “development” then you must hate Azriel because otherwise you’re misogynistic
Eluciens are turned off by the idea of a woman that has the autonomy to reject a man for the simple reason that it is her choice
Eluciens are all about feminism and “it’s HER choice” until it comes down to females not wanting a male
Eluciens don’t respect Elain’s feelings when they ship her with someone that was part of her trauma and makes her feel uncomfortable
The way some Elucien shippers completely disregard how uncomfortable Elain is around Lucien is so hilariously not funny. Prioritizing being mates over Elain’s feelings is just regressive
It’s hard as a fan of Elain to see someone ship her with a person who makes her physically uncomfortable to be around. Wouldn’t you want both characters to be happy to be around each other
Imagine if SJM saw all the awful things her “stans” had to say about Elain
It’s true that we know comparatively little about her, but is she really boring or do you just not value stereotypically feminine traits?
So y’all are just gonna tell me you prefer Elucien over Elriel? Even though Lucien treats Elain as if she’s something that belongs to him? The only reason he wants to be with her is because she’s his mate, he doesn’t respect her, doesn’t treat her as his equal, even though that’s what mates should be? He doesn’t bother to look past what’s on the outside to see her for who she is. And Elain is obviously repulsed by the idea that she should belong to anyone or have no choice in who she can be with. Azriel is her friend and the only person who sees her quiet strength. He has so much faith in her, in her abilities; he’s the one who kept her company when no one else did, he’s the only one who bothered to see her for more than her brokenness. You’re going to tell me you still prefer Elucien over Elriel?
The more I see Gwynriels that ship Elucien out of their hate for Elain, the less I can understand Elain stans that ship Elucien. Pls Elain has made it very clear that she doesn’t want Lucien, why would you ship her with him? Do you hate her too? Smh
The real question would be, if you care and understand Elain why would you ship her with Lucien (where she canonically shrinks when he is near)?
People crying over Helion and Lucien’s mom not getting to be with each other and her being forced into a relationship she didn’t want, but also ship Elucien? Just say you hate Elain
When Elain’s book is out, Gwyn stans will look like clowns and I will laugh because they set her up by shipping her with Azriel just because they hate Elain. Watch them play the victims now because Elriels are clapping back the hate they’ve sent towards Elain
As romantic as wanting girl who is visibly uncomfortable around a guy who caused her trauma to end up with the said guy. Guess their standards for romance are in hell
Category 2: Victimize Elain’s character
Gwynriels only want Gwyn with Azriel because they despise Elain
Gwyn stans and Gwynriels are Elain antis
No one in the books dislike Elain, so why are there so many people who do?
Elain hasn’t done anything wrong or questionable to warrant the hate she gets
Not having Elain’s POV makes it easy for people to be swayed a certain way about her character if you already don’t relate to her in some way
It’s been years since this series came out and we haven’t gotten a lick of an Elain POV, but people still hate her for what? We don’t know her thoughts, dreams, or aspirations
We haven’t even had Elain’s perspective yet and people are passing these judgments off on her
Elain antis who say she’s boring are just cruel when she has obvious symptoms of PTSD like Feyre and Nesta
Gwyn is one of the most overhyped characters and that’s only because most people hate Elain and they couldn’t wait to find a random girl to ship Azriel with
Nesta was abusive to her sisters but Elain (who has only ever been kind) is painted as the villain
From the text we know that Elain is the epitome of feminine stereotypes (gentle, gardening, baking, non confrontational for the most part). Yet people still call her boring or deny that she has any interesting character traits?
You can’t love Nesta and hate Elain
People hate Elain because of internalized misogyny and lack of taste. All the girl does is tend to her garden and mind her business and they treat her worse than Tamlin
Does Gwyn deserve all this support? Of course yes! She is amazing! But where’s that support when Elain was in the same situation as she? Where’s that support for her right now? Why do they idolize Gwyn for her interactions with Azriel and hate Elain for having any interaction with him?
It’s not even a ship war anymore, they just hate Elain
People hate Elain for no reason
Some of y’all don’t like feminine traits and it shows
We know less about Eris and Helion but people don’t call them boring. Why would rejecting femininity make Elain more interesting?
Elain has had a lot forced upon her
The main reason I believe most people love Gwyn so much is to get Azriel away from Elain. It’s not a secret that Elain has been a widely hated character for years so suddenly we get a new female who has a minimal amount of interactions with Azriel and BOOM. New ship that once again doesn’t make sense (just like Azriel x Emerie after ACOFAS)
Elain hasn’t done something so terrible for her to get this hate. At this point some of you are just being misogynistic and you don’t want to accept it. Don’t call yourselves feminists and then say bs like this, it’s embarrassing. She’s pretty and everyone agreed to hate on her
Just a personal feeling, but I feel like a lot of the Elain hate stems from internalized misogyny. That to be a strong female lead, you need to pick up a sword and fight. That to be strong, you need to adapt traditionally masculine traits
Elain is feminine. She is beautiful. She loves to bake and garden. She is docile, quiet, observant, and a people-pleaser. All traditionally feminine traits. Yet for some reason, she’s like the worst in these people’s eyes?
I think also maybe a lot of people can’t relate to her femininity? That her being so beautiful and quiet doesn’t allow for the people who dislike her not to self-insert? Most of the hate stems from people not wanting Elain to be with Azriel. It’s mean, but maybe the people who hate Elain literally just can’t self-insert if they have a story and that’s why they’re vehemently against it?
Poor Elain. The Cauldron dealt her a bad deal. Upon emerging as Fae, she is immediately declared by Lucien as his mate, never mind that she was already engaged to a prick. Her love life is not good
It blows my mind how they really think that they can compare all the shit that Elain gets with some dumb jokes about Gwyn on Twitter (and yes, the “hate” towards her started mostly because Elriels are clapping back, it was bound to happen)
I would think of it as anti-feminist with Elain and Lucien because she has consistently stated that she does not want him so if she was forced to embrace the bond that would be taking away her right to have a choice but with Az she feels comfortable around so if they were mates then Elain would be happy and feel safe which again should be the priority for women to feel safe in their relationships with anything and to not be forced into any type of situation aka the mating bond in this
Category 3: Coddle Elain’s character
Elain has value the way she is, in all her domestic girly glory. Not every character has to be badass
We don’t speak of Elain’s flaws frequently because everyone else already speaks badly of her, mainly in an unfair way
There is definitely something deeper going on with Elain but by no means will she ever be evil or any less feminine. That goes against everything we already know about her
It’s ok to critique Elain because she needs growth but y’all keep forgetting the shit her and her sisters went through
The last “bad” thing Elain did in ACOTAR was not help Feyre when they were impoverished and I’m tired of people acting like she’s a terrible character when it was their father’s responsibility. It happened 4 books ago and Feyre has forgiven both Nesta and Elain
Elain’s character and the evil Elain theory are a great example of the trend where people only consider female characters interesting if they reject femininity
We don’t know enough to hate Elain
Many people want Elain to turn evil (which in my opinion seems to come from a place of internalized misogyny)
However we don’t tend to talk about her faults, at least not publicly, as that has been, and still is, done to death, and I--personally, at least--find it much more fun to theorise about potentially interesting aspects of the overall plot, than dwell on negatives
And ultimately, I would be shocked if Elain has a more karmically-charged story than Nesta, considering that Elain’s “wrongs” are so much less severe and bad than Nesta’s, and Elain has already apologized for them (or paid the price in other ways, like through what Graysen did)
I guess I also think Elain has suffered and been punished enough. I hope her story is about finding hope in terrible situations, and learning to love her new life, and choosing her own path after everything that has been done to her. I don’t think she needs to be punished anymore or face any additional trauma
Also, why is she being judged on her decisions as a human at all? Fae are monsters to humans! They enslaved them for thousands of years, and the Wall was erected to keep them out
Like I’m sorry, but think Elain would want to leave her ONLY FAMILY AND FRIENDS for the Spring Court where she has no one because--oh look, lots of flowers!--is the craziest thing I have ever heard
Her sisters are in the Night Court. Her nephew is in the Night Court. Her closest friends (Nuala and Cerridwen) are in the Night Court. Her love interest is in the Night Court. Her extended family is in the Night Court. Her home is in the Night Court
SJM isn’t going to keep two sisters together and split up the third. Especially not keep Feyre and Nesta together and separate Elain. They were either all going to end up in separate places, or together. Not 2 here and 1 there
Compared to the other female characters in the series, Elain is the only character whose femalehood is at the center of conversations; this is because arguments in the Elriel fandom fixate on it when discussing her character. While Elain, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor are all representations of white womanhood and white beauty, Elain epitomizes the most fragile version of white womanhood. It’s easy to blame society’s perception of traditional female characters in comparison to non-traditional female characters when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elain’s character because it: falls in line with the fixation on Elain’s femalehood to silence opposing viewpoints; is a simplistic explanation that fails to tackle the underlying issues with Elain as a character, the same issues that are downplayed in-universe; absolves Elain of her wrongdoings; prevents the ACOTAR fandom from holding Elain accountable for her actions and inactions within the series; and diminishes the impact Elain’s actions and inactions have on those around her. It’s not that Elain is hated in the fandom because she’s a traditional female character; it’s the fact that arguments in the Elriel fandom deflect a critical analysis of Elain’s character because she’s a traditional female character who embodies the ideal white woman in need of protection. White fans and white-aligned fans of color, especially white women, have a tendency to vehemently defend, gatekeep, and coddle white female characters in fandom; this makes it difficult for other fans to engage in critical discussions about these white female characters because they’re viewed as flawless and all around perfect characters despite evidence to the contrary. Since Elain is viewed positively by the other characters in the series, it has rendered her character untouchable to any perceived slight or criticism in fandom discussions because those negative opinions challenge what has been said about her character thus far. And as a result, her character has been placed on a pedestal and implicitly hailed as the epitome of white womanhood; and when she’s criticized, it’s seen as a direct attack against white womanhood. Arguments in the Elriel fandom: exploit feminist language and perpetuate white feminist tactics under the guise of defending Elain’s character; center Elain in conversations about female oppression in the ACOTAR world and uphold white feminist ideologies in their critique of ACOTAR’s patriarchal society; and use the fragile white woman narrative to victimize Elain in Lucien’s presence, playing into racial biases that are associated with white supremacy’s defense of white womanhood.
Feminism is a social movement that seeks to promote equality and equity to all genders, and feminists work toward eradicating gender disparities on a macro-level, in addition to challenging gender biases on a micro-level. As feminism became more mainstream, a flat and oversimplified version of feminism emerged: mainstream feminism. The mainstream feminist movement is meant to represent all women, but rarely does it center conversations around issues that concern most women. The problem with mainstream feminism is that it’s just a popularized version of white feminism. White feminism has relied extensively on an individualized understanding of women’s oppression, exclusively from the lens of privileged white women. White feminism only focuses on the oppression experienced by white, able-bodied, affluent, educated, cishet women; and it views gender as the key mode of privileged white women’s oppression, isolated from the privileges granted by their other social identities. White women can be and are oppressed under the patriarchy but only because they are women; their identity as women does not exempt them from the privileges granted by their whiteness. The term white feminist does not mean any feminist who is white, but refers to feminists who prioritize the concerns of privileged white women as though they are representative of all women. However, the term is not exclusive to white people. Because white feminism is so pervasive, people of other racial and ethnic backgrounds often buy into white feminism, believing that if they work hard enough, they may be able to reap its rewards.
Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism only recognizes the identity of being a woman, assumes that all women share common experiences of gender oppression, fails to address other social identities in relation to overlapping systems of oppression, and disregards privilege in relation to various social identities. Just like white feminism, mainstream feminism is palatable because it doesn’t seek to challenge the systems in place, instead its goal is to succeed within them. Essentially, mainstream feminism and white feminism are extensions of performative feminism. Performative feminism is a type of performative activism that’s used to describe feminist views that are surface level and solely for the benefit of one type of person. It’s a pretense which often has nothing to do with genuine activism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom normalize and promote performative feminism because the topic of feminism is only referenced when discussing Elain. This indicates that these arguments are engaging in disingenuous discourse to push a personal agenda within the ACOTAR fandom, and it becomes more apparent when they use white feminist tactics to shut down opposing viewpoints:
White feminists weaponize and exploit feminist language to silence the opinions of other women, especially when they’re called out for their problematic behaviors
White feminists use the phrase “Women supporting women” to defend other white feminists who exhibit problematic behaviors instead of holding them accountable 
White feminists weaponize phrases like “Women supporting women” and “You just hate women” to attack other women who disagree with them on any given topic
White feminists use phrases like “All women face challenges” and “Stop pitting women against each other” to sidestep conversations about privilege
White feminists divert conversations away from privilege and towards the Trauma Olympics to equate their struggles to the oppression of marginalized people 
White feminists skirt around the realities of other forms of oppression and discrimination, downplaying the experiences of marginalized people
White feminists diminish or ignore the ways in which gender oppression affects other marginalized people
White feminists paint those they harmed as aggressive, mean, or divisive when confronted with the ways they have harmed a marginalized group
White feminists deflect criticism by focusing on the anger or emotions being expressed rather than the issue that is being discussed, invalidating the concerns of marginalized people
White feminists speak over marginalized voices in an attempt to sound “woke”
White feminists get defensive and insist there’s no way they could be a part of the problem because of what they’ve done to help marginalized groups already 
White feminists say they don’t see color in an attempt to obscure racial issues that need to be addressed
White feminists center and victimize themselves in conversations about racism, which derails necessary conversations from taking place
White feminists who are white weaponize the intersectionality of their race and gender to avoid accountability
Feminism is not meant to be approached from an individualistic perspective nor is it only about addressing the experiences of privileged white women, it involves addressing the intersections of race, class, gender, sexuality, (dis)ability, and other social identities as well; and it involves addressing how these social identities relate to privilege. Moreover, feminism is not about women upholding complete loyalty to other women because of a shared gender identity, and to claim that it does implies that women should be held to different emotional standards than men. If men are able to dislike and criticize other individual men, real or fictional, without their characters being compromised, why aren’t women granted that same privilege?
It’s clear that SJM set up the ACOTAR world to mirror a patriarchal society, and that the imbalance of power between males and females stems from sexism. Arguments in the Elriel fandom analyze the ACOTAR world through a feminist lens to show how ACOTAR’s patriarchal society, to which the mating bond is innately tied, contributes to female oppression and limits their agency. When choice and free will are emphasized as part of Elain’s arc, they imply that Elain, through the mating bond, experiences female oppression under ACOTAR’s patriarchal society because of her identity as a female with that identity being the focal point of her oppression in the world. Elain is one of the most privileged characters in the ACOTAR world: she’s High Fae; she’s the sister of the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, which gives her access to wealth and political influence because of that connection; she’s able-bodied; she was magically blessed by the Cauldron; and she lives in Velaris, a place that grants females autonomy and power because of the beliefs of Rhysand and Feyre. Arguments in the Elriel fandom trivialize female oppression in the ACOTAR world because they disregard the fact that Elain’s privileges prevent her from experiencing female oppression in the same way that other marginalized females in the world do. The mating bond being one such example because those around Elain are not forcing the bond on her, instead they’re allowing Elain to reach a decision about the bond for herself; a privilege that other marginalized females in the world probably wouldn’t have. Just because Elain has endured hardships in her life and is a female in a patriarchal society, they do not erase the privileges she holds within the ACOTAR world. The failure to include Elain’s privileges in discussions about Elain being a female in a patriarchal society feeds into white feminist ideologies because white feminism operates from a very narrow perspective; it doesn’t take other intersecting identities into account when it examines gender oppression, leaving no room for discussions about privilege (or lack thereof) in relation to those intersecting identities. When discussing oppression in hierarchical societies, it’s imperative that privilege is also included in the conversation because privilege and oppression are not mutually exclusive; they equally affect the ways in which people navigate those societies through their social identities.
Rather than attributing Elain’s uncomfortability to her new life as a Fae female or the mating bond itself and her trauma to the Cauldron, the King of Hybern, or Ianthe, they’re placed on Lucien to cast his character in a negative light. Moreover, fandom discussions portray Lucien as a possessive character to further emphasize Elain’s discomfort despite the inaccuracy of this characterization in canon. Arguments in the Elriel fandom play into racial biases when it comes to Lucien (a male character of color) because they mischaracterize his character in order to victimize Elain (a white female character), placing her character in the role of the white damsel in distress. In Western society, the concept of womanhood has been conceptualized from a Eurocentric perspective with femininity and feminine attributes favoring white women. It’s the idea that a certain type of femininity is only inherent to white women as they are seen as the embodiment of an ideal womanhood. White womanhood has been a symbol of innocence and purity, and white women have been viewed as fragile beings in need of protection. The reason white womanhood functions within white supremacy is because it’s the same idea that has motivated white men to kill and beat black and brown men. The so-called protection of white women has been used as a justification for the horrific violence committed by white men because black and brown men were stereotyped as aggressive and seen as a threat to the virtue of white women. The white damsel in distress trope considered white women as worthy of protection because of their perceived innocence and purity; women of color were not granted that same treatment because they did not fit into the ideal image of womanhood. Over the years, this trope became a means for white women to exercise limited power in a patriarchal society with white women weaponizing their status as the damsel much to the detriment of black and brown men. It’s through the white damsel in distress trope that white supremacy sustains its dominance in Western society. The misrepresentation of characters of color in fandom, the dismissal of their importance to the overall story, and using them as tools in arguments centered around white characters are the foundation of fandom racism; they’re examples of how racism moves silently in fandom spaces. Instead of examining their behavior and taking constructive criticism from fans of color, white fans will often double down on their bigotry and center their uncomfortability in the conversation when confronted with their complicity in fandom racism. White fans expect fans of color to swallow fandom racism in its many forms in order to not ruin the experience of fandom, dismissing the fact that racism is prevalent in nearly every aspect of society. This mentality ensures that no one is held accountable for the harm they caused and alienates fans of color in fandom spaces.
To reiterate what I mentioned in my first think piece: terms like “oppression”, “the right to choose”, “feminist”, “feminism”, “anti-feminist”, “anti-feminism”, “internalized misogyny”, “misogyny”, “misogynist”, “sexist”, “sexism”, “racist”, “racism”, “classist”, “classism”, “discrimination”, and “patriarchy” are all used in specific ways to draw attention to the plight of marginalized people and challenge those who deny the existence of systems of oppression. Yet these words and their meanings can be twisted to attack, exclude, and invalidate people with differing opinions on any given topic. When social justice and feminist terms are thrown around antagonistically and carelessly to push a personal agenda, it becomes clear that these terms are being used to engage in disingenuous discourse and pursue personal validation rather than being used out of any deep-seated conviction to dismantle systemic oppression. Being an ally, activist, or feminist is not an identity, it’s a practice. It requires: ongoing self-reflection; holding ourselves accountable; listening to marginalized people; educating ourselves; dismantling implicit biases; challenging those around us who are exhibiting problematic behaviors; and action behind our words.
It’s important to be aware of the language that is used within the fandom when defending or critiquing characters and ships. It’s also important to question how an argument is framed and why it’s framed the way that it is to critically examine the intent behind that argument: is it used as a tool to push a personal agenda that reinforces problematic behaviors, or is it used as an opportunity to share, learn, enlighten, and educate?
Tagging: @spell-cleavers @bookofmirth @m0bulidae @ilya-boltagon
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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 years
If I Fell For You (Part 15) - Trouble In Paradise
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Summary: The reader is enjoying settling into her newfound children’s book career and shares how important the bracelet she gave Jensen is to her. A rainy day allows the reader to enjoy her shift into motherhood despite all of the bumps that go with it. But not everything is smooth sailing for the happy couple...
Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader
Word Count: 5,600ish
Warnings: language, angst, mention of past abuse, nightmares, major angst
A/N: Uh oh. Big uh oh. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!
Two Weeks Later
“Honey bun,” sang Jensen as he stepped into your home office you’d set up in the small reading room in the house. “Must you work today?”
“I do occasionally have to work on that drawing thing,” you said. He pouted and laid out on the daybed, picking up a copy of the third book. “Give me another hour to finish with these pages.”
“Can I hang out and watch you draw?” he asked.
“Knock your socks off,” you said. You picked up your stylus again and went back to your pad, Jensen sitting up and watching from the other side of the room. “You can sit closer if you want.”
He got up and pulled over a chair, crossing his legs in it.
“I basically draw using my stylus and this pad and it shows up on my laptop screen,” you said.
“We could get you a better screen, like your own separate work computer. I know your stories are picking up a lot of steam.”
“I’m okay for now. All I need to do is finish illustrating this book and my five book deal is done and ready for print,” you said.
“Can I make a request?”
“I would love to put in a giraffe for Zepp but the story takes place in the woods,” you said.
“Baby giraffe? Maybe just in the background?” he asked.
You backed out of your current page and went to the last two where the foxes and wolves were playing with their friends. You tapped on a tree and erased it, sketching out a loose shape.
“Look up a giraffe for me?” you asked. He tapped away on his phone and pulled up a picture. “Thanks.”
You drew a picture of a rough giraffe, softening it some before adding colors.
“You’re really good at that,” he said.
“The characters are easy. Backgrounds can get boring,” you said. You went back to your original set of pages and worked quietly, Jensen watching carefully. “Yes?”
“Just wanna spend time with you is all,” he said, resting his head on your shoulder.
“Okay, baby,” you said. You worked for another hour, Jensen asking the occasional question but mostly staying silent and close by. After you sent off the pages for review you turned to him, Jensen offering a soft smile in return. “All set with work for the day.”
“Awesome,” he said.
“Where’s the munchkins?”
“A movie,” he said. You ran your fingers through his hair and he leaned into it. “Tell me a secret.”
“A secret? I don’t think I have too many of those left from you,” you said. He opened his eyes and looked at you through his lashes. “What?”
“You said you got this on vacation,” he said, holding up his wrist, the bracelet you’d put on him two weeks ago still there. “When we were down there, I was talking to Ray and he kinda implied it wasn’t just a souvenir.”
“I was upset that day when he bought it for me. It meant I was safe was all,” you said.
“How long after did your mom…”
“A few months. She went on bed rest after that trip.”
“Y/N, I know when you’re holding back, honey. I would never judge or tell anyone anything. You know that.”
“You got hurt because you lost someone and you got hurt and it sucks right? But it’s kinda like something happened and then you heal from it right?”
“Yeah…” he said. “What don’t I know?”
“You know how anxious you were to get in the car and drive down to the beach?” you asked as he nodded. “You’ve never been afraid of a person, Jensen. It’s like that feeling...but everyday and you’re expected to live your life normally when you constantly have that over your head.”
He was quiet, glancing past you as the room grew darker from some passing clouds outside.
“Canada wasn’t the first time you saw your father since you were adopted, was it,” he said.
“You wouldn’t believe what a good lawyer and shitty laws will do for a piece of shit like that,” you said.
“You were a kid.”
“With zero physical evidence. Everything was circumstantial. So he got out and he came to apologize or some bullshit and Ray decked him.”
“The more I learn about Ray, the more I like him.”
“My mom kicked him in the nuts.”
“I really like that woman,” he said. You smiled and he moved his chair closer, pulling you into his lap. “I don’t mean to make you talk about your dad. I was curious was all.”
He went to take off the bracelet when you put a hand over it.
“I don’t want to remind you of something bad, sweetheart.”
“Like I said, I was upset. Very upset and in public and I went down to the beach to try to hide away. Ray bought that for me and told me I was safe when he put it on me. All it means to me is that you’re safe.”
“What about you? What do you have?” he asked quietly. You cocked your head and moved your hand to rest over his chest. “Alright, sort of a dumb question.”
“Not dumb,” you said, trailing your fingers down his chest.
“Guess you’ll just have to stay as close as humanly possible.”
“I don’t have a problem with that,” you said.
“Do you have a restraining order against your father?”
“No but that’s only because Ray managed to get him kicked out of the country. He found some loophole law. He was born in the Yukon so technically he’s not American and he got him kicked back.”
“Scratch that. Ray is my new favorite person,” he said. “If only we could send him someplace we’ll never visit like...a deserted island. Or Hell.”
“I appreciate the thought but I’m not scared of him anymore,” you said. “I am however afraid our plans of lunch at the brewery are going to get rained out.”
“We can enjoy ourselves right here. I’ve never heard a complaint yet about my grilling.”
“You know what? I got the perfect idea.”
“Okay,” said Jensen, sliding the foil packet off the grill and onto JJ’s plate. You’d decided to have lunch on the grill, sitting out under the covered back patio off the playroom. It was pouring rain but you were plenty dry there. “Chicken, marinara sauce and cheese. Then we got chicken, ketchup and baby carrots for Arrow. Zeppy wanted to try barbecue sauce and onion which sounded good to me and then Y/N went for the salmon and lemon.”
You helped the twins open up their foil packets and get their food on their plates, dicing up the chicken for them before going to your own plate.
“Daddy,” said Zeppelin while he chewed on a big piece of chicken. Jensen hummed and worked on his own food. “Can we play race cars after lunch?”
“Sure,” he said, JJ shaking her head.
“I don’t wanna play cars,” she said. Zeppelin stared at her and his bottom lip wobbled. “You’re a cry baby.”
“JJ, that’s rude,” you said, Jensen glancing at you and nodding. “Apologize to your brother.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled. 
“We’re gonna play cars after lunch and you’re welcome to join,” said Jensen. “Your brother goes along with what you girls want to play quite a bit so I think you can do the same for him.”
“I still don’t wanna play cars,” she mumbled.
“You play cars with the Padalecki boys all the time,” you said.
“Not little kid cars,” she said. “He doesn’t know how to play right.”
You saw Zeppelin getting upset again and sighed.
“There’s no wrong way to play,” you said. “Zepp’s littler than you. You gotta be the big sister and do what he wants sometimes.”
“Mom would have played dress up,” she grumbled. “Not stupid cars.”
“Enough,” said Jensen. “You’re old enough to know better.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Your brother wants to play cars. We played horses all morning long and you barely let him have a turn at that so like I said, we’re gonna play what he wants and you are welcome to join us but if you don’t want to, you can play something else,” he said. 
“Baby,” she said under her breath. Jensen didn’t catch it but you did.
“JJ you’re in timeout after lunch. Ten minutes,” you said. 
“I didn’t-”
“You just called him a baby. You want to make it fifteen?” you asked.
“You’re not my mom! You can’t give me timeouts,” she said.
“Half an hour now,” said Jensen. She stared at him and he shook his head. “Eat your lunch.”
Zeppelin spent half of it crying quietly and JJ barely touched hers before she was following Jensen inside. You threw your head back and sighed before you went inside to get some tissues. When you came back out Arrow was hugging him tightly.
“Let’s clean you up, buddy,” you said as you squatted down beside them. She let go of him and you wiped off his face and helped him blow his nose. “Feel better?”
“We can play dress up,” he said. You picked him up and hoisted him on your hip. 
“We’re gonna play cars. Arrow, do you want to play with us?” you asked. She smiled and nodded. “Hey how about you go wash your hands and then you can bring out the bucket of cars and we’ll play out here. How’s that sound Zepp?”
“Okay,” he said. Arrow went inside and you carried him around as you collected the trash and threw it in the bag you brought out. You tied it up and left it in the corner to put in the bin later before you you walked to the edge of the covered patio, rain coming down at a decent rate. “Y/N you’re my mom right?”
“I’m one of your moms,” you said. “I’m gonna adopt you that way everybody can know I am though.”
“Cool,” he said softly, resting his head on your shoulder. “Mom can we play in the rain?”
“Hear any thunder?” you asked. He shook his head. “See any lightning?”
“Nuh uh,” he said.
“Then we can play in the rain all you want,” you said. You walked out to the grass and spun around with him, getting a giggle out of him. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” he asked. You spun around again and he laughed.
“There it is again!” you said. He giggled and you spun around a few times until you were dizzy and took a seat. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as you noticed Jensen leaning against the post of the patio. He was smiling and you hopped up with Zeppelin, waving him around in the air until you were back under cover. You set him down and he ran over to Arrow, picking out his favorite cars from the bucket and handing her some. 
“Well that might have been one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen,” he said. 
“You took a picture, didn’t you.”
“Oh several,” he said. He glanced back at the twins and then at you. “It clicked for you just now didn’t it.”
“Being a mom? Yeah.”
“You didn’t look to me on how to discipline JJ and you made him feel better and you made him laugh. You went full mom there and I’ve kinda been waiting for that.”
“I know it’s just playing they’re arguing over but I just hate...there is so much of you in him,” you said.
“I know and that feeling will never go away but it means you love ‘em and loving them is my only requirement for us working so this was actually a really good thing.”
“Those two are so sweet,” you said.
“It’s the twin thing. Oh what fun we have to look forward to when they are teenagers and they lie to us for one another,” he chuckled.
“Yeah but I’ll take it. Did you really give her a half hour timeout?”
“Fifteen minutes. She needs to share more and he doesn’t like confrontation so he goes along with what she wants but it’s not her road or the highway.”
“She’s been a little…”
“I know. Since we told them about the engagement,” he said. “We gotta talk to her on her own.”
“Let me take a crack at her first?” you asked.
“You got a hunch?”
“I don’t think having a mom again is a problem. I think the idea of losing a mom again is.”
“That makes sense considering she was attached to your hip before all this.”
“I’m gonna go see if I can get to the bottom of this. Now go play cars,” you said. He kissed your cheek and you headed inside, drying off some with a towel in the laundry room before you went up to JJ’s bedroom. You knocked and cracked open the door, catching her splayed out on her bed. “JJ. Can we talk?”
She rolled and put her back to you. You sat down on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath.
“You know your brother did what you wanted all day. You have to share,” you said. She didn’t say anything and you lay back on the bed, turning your head. She rolled back the other way and you sat up. She rolled again and you tilted your head back. “JJ do you want me to be your mom?”
“No,” she mumbled. 
“Are you lying?” She didn’t move and you sat back, her face scrunched up. “Are you scared if I’m your mom something bad will happen to me?”
“I don’t want two dead moms,” she said. 
“I have two dead moms,” you said. She blinked her eyes open and sat up. “My first mom, I never met her. She died giving birth to me.”
“You only had a dad when you were born?” she asked. You nodded and pulled her into your lap. “Did he get married again?”
“No. My dad was very mad my mom died. He took that out on me. He was a bad guy. He went to jail and I got adopted by my mom when I was your age. Ray was her boyfriend. He acted like he was my dad in a lot of ways. I was sixteen when my mom died. I understand it hurts, sweetie, and that it’s scary and you don’t ever want to feel like that again.”
“I thought if I was bad you and daddy wouldn’t...and then I don’t have to feel bad again.”
“I am so sorry honey but you can’t stop that feeling from never coming back. The only way you could not get it would be to not love anyone or anything and that’s not a life at all. It’s the price you pay for loving someone. Your mom was an accident. But Daddy is young and I’m even younger and I promise you will not have to feel that way about me for a very, very long time.”
“How long?”
“How about fifty years?”
“Fifty years? That’s forever,” she said. 
“I’ll give you fifty years if I can be your mom and you stop picking on Zepp. Deal?”
“Okay. I’m sorry I made him cry.”
“I’m not the one that needs an apology,” you said. “Now do you want stay in here all by yourself or do you want to come play with us?”
“I can play?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” you said. You got up and carried her down on your back, setting her down to let her run off out to the porch. Jensen got up from his seat and held up a finger, ducking back inside to where you were.
“That’s what I like to see,” he said as she gave Zeppelin a hug and he handed her a car.
“I did have to promise not to die for fifty years.”
“Fifty? You got off easy. I had to promise a hundred after the accident,” he chuckled. “I should have noticed she was scared.”
“I have more experience being a scared little girl than you do. I got experience with letting people get close again too,” you said.
“How’s that working out for ya?” he smirked.
“He’s lucky he’s hot,” you said. He threw his arm over your shoulders and grinned. “Do you want to get married in the fall?”
“This fall?” he asked.
“Can we pull it off that fast?” you asked.
“Yeah. We don’t have to book a venue which is the hardest part. I don’t see why not. What’s the rush?” he asked.
“It’s easier to adopt them if we’re married,” you said. “I don’t really want to wait longer than we have to if that’s alright.”
“I’d say let’s go drive down to city hall and get a justice of the peace right now if I knew my mother wouldn’t kill me for it. How about I call up the lawyer and ask him to start prepping the paperwork as if we already were so it’s all set to go,” he said.
“You have a lawyer?” you asked. “They’d do that?”
“Y/N, honey. My taxes alone frighten me not to mention I own a business with employees and what qualifies as a business write off still confuses me and wait you don’t have a lawyer for your book deal?”
“Should I have one?” 
“Greg is your lawyer now,” he said. “He’s good. He’ll do all the paperwork for us.”
“Oh good cause all the forms online were confusing the hell out of me,” you said. He shook his head and pulled you in close. 
“Silly goose,” he said, a loud boom of thunder shaking the house. “Let’s get the crew inside before it pours.”
“Who wants to build a fort?” you asked that afternoon. JJ jumped up and down on the couch and Jensen walked in with an arm full of blankets and sheets. Three little hands shot up and Jensen lazily tossed the blankets on the couch, covering the three of them.
“Hm, where’d those three munchkins run off to…” he said, Arrow ducking her head out first, hair all in her face. Jensen giggled and she rolled her eyes, the other two climbing out. “Alright. I’m gonna grab clothes pins and a few more things. You guys start designing.”
You stood back and let JJ organize, figuring out her first choice of blanket for a roof was too small. Jensen returned with a bag of clips, some twine and the step ladder, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.
“How they doing?” he whispered.
“Picking out the roof,” you said, Arrow rushing over and grabbing his hand as Zeppelin climbed on JJ’s back and held up a sheet over the two of them with one hand. You smirked and she let out another eye roll.
“Daddy, can you pick up Zeppy so then he can put the blankie up? I told them they’re too small,” she said.
“Sure,” he said. “Tell me where you want it to go.”
Twenty minutes later the family room was covered with sheets, tied off to the stairs, chairs, the ceiling fan after Jensen broke out the larger ladder to get up there and assured you it wouldn’t bring the whole thing crashing down. 
“Can we sleep in here tonight?” asked JJ. 
“I don’t see why not,” you said. “There’s plenty of room on the couch. We’ll bring down your comforters when it’s bedtime,” you said.
“Can we watch Cars?” asked Zeppelin, glancing at JJ. 
“Okay,” she said. She gave him a hug and picked him up, Jensen smiling to himself as he looked on.
“Can we get pizza for dinner like a real sleepover?” asked Arrow. 
“We did cook up all the chicken at lunch,” you said, giving Jensen a side eye.
“Yeah we’ll get one,” he said. “Why don’t you turn on your movie okay? We’ll be right there.”
You let Jensen pull you into the kitchen, smirking as he picked you up and sat you on the counter.
“Seems like today’s crisis has been averted,” you said.
“I’m sure they’ll go back to tormenting each other tomorrow but I’ll take it,” he said, reaching into the drawer next to you, pulling out a menu. “So. You interested in pizza?”
“Oh that looks interesting,” you said, taking the pamphlet out of his hand and tapping at a special. “One cheese, one speciality, boneless wings and garlic bread? My little carb loving heart is in love.”
“She’s not the only one,” he said, leaning up on his tip toes and kissing you. 
“Are you coming?” groaned JJ from in the fort. You shook your head and Jensen kissed your neck, even nibbling before he pulled back. You smacked his chest and he set the menu down, giving you a wink.
“We’re coming in right now. Don’t wait for us kiddo.”
You woke up sweating, Jensen shushing you, arms wrapped around you. You took a deep breath and caught the clock said it was almost three. You turned in his arms and buried your head in his chest, his hand rubbing up and down your back.
“You’re okay. Bad dream is all,” he said softly. You nodded and started to relax, flinching when there was more thunder. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing’s gonna get ya.”
The thunder shook the house and you tensed up. Jensen pulled the covers over both your heads and you crammed in as close as humanly possible when more thunder hit.
“Honey look at me. Please look at me.” You lifted your head and saw a horrible face in front of you, a scream ripping out of your throat.
“Y/N,” you heard as you woke up absolutely drenched, Jensen’s hands on your face. “Honey, talk to me. Can you hear me?”
“Night terror,” you said quietly. 
“Yeah, JJ used to have them. I didn’t know adults could get them,” he said. 
“Can I have a cold washcloth? And some water?” you asked. He got out of bed and padded into the bathroom in his boxers, settling back into bed and handing you the water. You drank it down while he wiped off your face and neck, running it over your head. “Thanks.”
“You okay?” he asked. 
“Mostly feel embarrassed.” He frowned and you put the glass on your nightstand, staring down at your sweaty shirt. 
“Should I call Ray?”
“It was a stupid nightmare. I’m fine,” you said.
“You were sat up eyes wide open and talking and shouting and I couldn’t wake you up,” he said. “I know adults really shouldn’t be getting night terrors so maybe something triggered you or something during the day.”
“I know my triggers and I know when it’s just a stupid nightmare. Back off,” you said. You got out from under the hot covers and went outside to the balcony, the air nice and cool from the storm earlier. The slide of the door was loud in the the quiet and you rubbed your arm. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve seen you have nightmares. That was a lot worse,” he said.
“I thought I saw someone watching the house earlier.”
“It was the neighbor’s kid, the teenager. It was his friend and he came over late but I thought...it freaked me out. That on top of thinking about the fact my father is not rotting in a jail cell most likely sent me over the edge,” you said. He walked in front of you, resting his hands on your arms. “I’m okay. Needed some air was all.”
“Alright. Tell me if something like that happens again?” he asked. You hummed and he gave you a kiss. “Okay, sweetheart. Let’s head on back to bed.”
“What do you mean?” you growled into the phone the next evening. Jensen lifted his head from his book in the family room and you walked away, stepping out to the private patio area on the side of the house. “That’s not possible.”
“It’s been fifteen years. He has every legal right to be in the country.”
“In the country! He got an apartment seven minutes from where I live!” you said. “I have little kids here, Finn. Tell me there’s something I can do.”
“I can get a restraining order-”
“That doesn’t mean shit to him. I need him fucking deported. I need him gone.”
“Y/N, you know me. I have never agreed to it but he paid his debt as it was assigned and he quietly followed the law. He did what he was supposed to and I’m sorry but until he does something, I can’t do anything besides help you and your fiance’s family get a restraining order.”
“So until he does something horrible again, I can’t do anything about it.”
“No Finn. I appreciate the heads up but...I have to go.”
You hung up and squeezed your phone tight. He knew where you lived. He was minutes away and there was absolutely zero help until something went wrong. You sat on a bench and bounced your leg. Nothing could go wrong. You couldn’t let anything go wrong. Who knew what the son of a bitch would do to any one of them.
You stopped bouncing your leg just as you heard the door open. You lifted your head and stood, spinning around to Jensen standing there.
“Everything alright?”
“Actually no.”
“Who was on the phone?”
“My ex,” you said, swallowing. You crossed your arms and thought of the things Jensen had told you about acting and getting in character and all that. You were gonna destroy him. Fuck you were going to end up shattering him into a thousand pieces he’d never put back together. 
You couldn’t really lie just to keep them away from him, could you? 
You saw Arrow run past in the house and made your face hard. Broken heart but safe kids was worth it.
“I thought you didn’t talk to him anymore,” said Jensen. You turned up your chin and he smiled. “You are the worst actress in the world. Who was it really?”
“I think we’re moving too fast and I want to take a break and I would appreciate it if you gave me my space to figure this out on my own.”
“Uh, what?” he said. You brushed past him and he followed you in, all the way up to your bedroom. You got out a bag and he flipped it shut. “What the hell is going on? Who was on the phone?”
“My boyfriend,” you said. He stared at you and you sighed. “You’re a great guy but I’m sorry. I can’t do the house and kids thing. I want to go see the world and not be tied down and you’re just...you’re too damn old for me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Maybe you should have trusted your first instincts when you saw me and Doug,” you said. He stared at you while you shoved some clothes in a bag. You slung it over your shoulder and he caught the backside of it. You took off your ring and put it on the table by the door, Jensen dropping his hand. “I just can’t do this anymore. It wasn’t you. I’m sorry. I really need to go.”
A/N: Read Part 16 here!
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Episode 7 review
Before the release of episodes 6 &7, an interview with the director Charlotte Brändström was published, in which she explained that the episodes given to her worked as two parters, almost an extended tv film and were like nothing done on the show before. She said that her role was mostly to deconstruct what was built by the previous directors: J.A. Bayona and Wayne Yip.
But what happened on screen seemed more than a deconstruction, it had the violence and the brutality of a destruction.
The casualties are unknown among civilians but the numbers must be very high considering the gravity of the wounds suffered by the survivors (almost all of them have been severely burned). And if for the main characters, it hasn't been the massacre that it could have been, it's still devastating: Ontamo died (how hard was it to see Isildur crying and trying desperately to reach him, while Valandil was dragging him away forcibly, to get him to focus on the survivors in need of help), Isildur is presumed dead, the queen regent Miriel is blind and Halbrand is seriously wounded (though it's not clear if it's a good or bad news in his case, i'm expecting his betrayal at any minute).
And so many relationships were shattered in the aftermath of the disaster, literally reduce to pieces, that i don't know what survived of them, what can be saved. I'm thinking mostly about all Elendil's relationships: with Isildur, Galadriel, The Queen Regent Miriel. His tragedy is the worst, he payed the highest price in those events which i think will cement forever his hate for Sauron and Mordor.
We're back at the level of sorrow that were the loss of Gandalf during the crossing of Moria and the death of Boromir, which both lead to the end of the Fellowship. The alliance between men and elves is dismantled once again, and everyone is going on separated paths, despite the promises made.
More on the plot:
The structure of this episode doesn't work for me: the writers should have picked only two subplots (and not three) and stick to them in order to give enough screen time to the survivors of the eruption. The story happening in Mordor should have been the plot A, and plot B should have been either Khazad Dûm or the Harfoots and the Stranger, not both.
Forcing three subplots had for effect a lack of screen time for Elendil (and many more survivors like Arondir and Bronwyn but this post is mostly about him). They had to cut many scenes that should have been essential for his characterization after the shock provoked by the announcement of Isildur's death:
the one where he should have returned to the village to check by himself if his son was really dead,
the one where he should have tried to follow his son's horse Berek and understand why he rebelled and refused to leave, instead of thinking he was just sad.
Instead we saw a horse showing more determination to find his master than a father to search his son, taking the words of the queen Miriel and Valandil as definitive truth, as if he's not connected to Isildur by an invisible bond that can overpower even his seemingly undeniable death.
A man like Elendil, that has King and Destiny literally written on his face, a role of leader to assume in Nùmenor soon, should never gave up hope. Especially after he saw Theo coming back with Galadriel, and being reunited with his mother. He should have stayed behind, leading the company that the Nùmenoreans left to search the eventual survivors, with retentless determination until he finds Isildur alive or he finds his body. He should have done that i suppose he hasn't been able to do for his wife, when she drowned. It's what he owes her in all cases: to protect her son, their children.
He also turned his back very abruptly on the two women that meant the most for him in term of values and allegiance. It's a very cruel thing to do to me as his fan, i was invested deeply in those relationships and i don't get what's going on:
Is his sudden surge of hate against Galadriel only something due to the emotional shock provoked by Isildur's death or does he really think he should have never rescued her? Does he blame the loss and destruction he suffered on her only or on the alliance between men and elves too? I'm confused: it's impossible for the writers to change the canon but how are they going to keep him a friend of the elves and the leader of The Faithful (if they intend to do this arc) while he blames an elf for the death of his son? Is Isildur's return going to fix magically everything? Does Galadriel know that Isildur is dead? I get it: she could not bear to face Elendil, while he was showing so much hostility, but she didn't even try to talk to him to tell him she knows what he feels because she lost her brother Finrod and her husband Celeborn, which seems cold and a truly missed opportunity. So what's the point of the scene of the last episode where she met Isildur if she's not going to express any emotion about his supposed death?
He ignored the queen and this left me even more sad, considering how much she lost (her eyesight, her army, the battle, the trust of her people) and how strong and stoic she was trying to be for everyone. I got the impression from the trailer of episode 8 that he doesn't judge her responsible like Galadriel, which means his new attitude towards Galadriel makes even less sense. Both women clearly worked together on equal foots to make an alliance and prepare this battle, and they even renewed their promises in front of him despite his tears and the loss of Miriel's eyesight. So will he still support her when they'll reach Nùmenor? She's a faithful (to the Valar and the elves) just like him but given his reaction to her decision to come back and unleash hell on Sauron, i'm not sure anymore what direction the writers want to take with this relationship.
I enjoy like everyone a good story, full of tragedy, and what makes a a more gripping tale than a father and a son who love each other dearly but are separated? How could i not be compelled by the vision of the queen regent Miriel softly wiping away the tears of Galadriel and renewing her oath to make an alliance with the Elves and take down Sauron and his new realm?
But the sobs of Elendil were impossible to watch because it didn't feel right at this point of the story to hit him like this, especially after the tenderness he showed to his son in the last episode.
I said in another post that i was surprised that the writers gender swapped entirely this trope of having women crying over the victims of the wars lead by men, by making him the one who cried while Galadriel and the queen regent Miriel want to continue the war. But the fact the women are the ones in power in this fight, didn't feel compelling enough to appease my frustration at what the writers are doing to us his fans, by taking away everything that have become relatable, familiar and likeable about him: his allegiances, his family and love interests.
I fear that the trust is broken for good and that he won't let women, any woman now, lead him in war or anything else.
As Eärien's anti elves positions have been growing a lot lately, since basically Galadriel's arrival to the island, i fear that his return to Nùmenor will be even more painful: will he have to face her reproach too? Letting him without any female support? I won't bear it he loses her too and ends with no emotional bond with what's left of his family, Anarion being currently with the Faithful in the West (but the intention to make him join his family starting the next episode or during season 2 is clear). I can only hope that Isildur's “death” will be the turning point for the brother and sister to gather around their father Elendil and reaffirm their loyalty to each other.
I don't know for sure why the writers are butchering "descontructing" Elendil characterization when it comes to his family, but I have a theory that's it's linked to the reasons they have to break his relationship with Galadriel. I think they chose to separate them because they couldn't do anymore or didn't want to do anymore the romance, they started to develop in the subtext since they met in episode 3, and that's why her husband Celeborn has been so unceremoniously included in this episode, in violation of all rules about consistency and continuity. He's taking Elendil's place in the triangle formed with Halbrand.
The writers had until now a very good habit to make transitions and leave signs that foreshadowed the things to come, so i was really mad at them at first for being so careless, for their lack of attention with Elendil and sudden interest for Celeborn (all the more that Galadriel's motivations were all about Finrod until now, and yet he was never mentioned in this episode).
But then i remembered that the scenes of Elendil’s family were cut since their introduction to the show. Isildur and Eärien were supposed to have initially a longer scene on the beach in episode 3. I've read some infos shared by Ema Horvath (Eärien) in a interview in which she explained that Isildur and Eärien were discussing in the deleted scene the death of their mother and what caused it. Episode 5 Partings clearly have some missing scenes too: we never saw Eärien talking to Elendil and Isildur before their departure for war while she chased Pharâzon to convince him to oppose it (!). The director and the writer deleted all form of conflict between them and let only the silent but emotional farewell (full of angst and longing) with Isildur.
It really feels like the writers had an arc but weren't satisfied with it and went back to cut Elendil's scenes and his children's scenes too to rewrite it. Why else would Elendil, the hero of this story, and his family have less screentime than Bronwyn and Arondir or Halbrand? They changed too some dialogues here and there. As said by the actors the drowning of Elendil's wife was supposed to be discussed by their children Isildur and Eärien earlier, not revealed during a scene with Galadriel, without following or context to help us understand if it had a romantic subtext (which i think it had), and what it means for Galadriel and Elendil that he hasn't recovered yet, that he is still grieving his wife.
So now it looks like creating a shock wave was the writers only way to justify the reorganization of his entire arc. I suppose they will keep him busy with the civil war coming in Nùmenor, that's why had to return with the queen, but they never talked before about his involvement in the conflict between the King's Men (who reject the Valar and the Elves) and The Faithful (who want to reactivate the past alliance) in the way Lloyd Owen talked about it in his interview.
Surprisingly, this Elendil seems like an alternate version so far of the man he supposed to be in the Appendices of LOTR, even though this text is the basis of this adaptation. He defined himself as petty lord, not the High King of the Dùnedain and the descendent of Elros he's supposed to be. He's not even the leader (yet) of The Faithful and it's his wife's political engagement with them that lead him to join them too. There's no sign of his father Amandil while i had hope that the show could answer to the mystery that was his destiny after he left Nùmenor.
At this point, i'm forced to stop: i only have questions for his arc and no answers. So let's let it rest and keep hope that next season will bring some kind of justice for him.
Still on this concept of two subplots only, i would have kept as plot B the Harfoots and the Stranger and ignored Khazad Dûm, mostly because i'm tired of Durin's obsession with Elrond. There's only elf lies on Elrond's side (it was obvious that he let Durin win only to appease his anger and talk him in episode 2), and yet the more Durin discovers the lies, the more he seems determined to ignore them and to keep looking at Elrond with stars in his eyes, like a fanboy. It's not more crazy than Disa's reaction, who become literally hysterical when Durin III rejected Elrond's offer.
I really never would have imagined her insulting her father-in-law and making plans to overthrow him. It was just foolish and scary. It's even less acceptable considering that Durin III had the most reasonable arguments: he really saw the big picture (balancing the risk for his people with what the elves were offering), has a vision for his kingdom, and gave an answer that is the one i would expect from a king protecting his realm. While his son is a ball of misplaced loyalty, ambition and insecurities, fueled by his wife's desire to rule. All resemblance with shakespearian characters intended.
I really don't get how they have gone so fast from the most adorable couple of the year to plotting a coup....
In my view the genuine tears and thus authentic bond in this episode, excluding the sobs that happened in the wake of the eruption, were the tears of The Stranger after he realized that he almost hurt Nori and her little sister. Man, this actor has really mastered the way to play with his eyes and expressions without saying one word! He broke my heart with one glance (he's been doing it since episode 1 but i never got the chance to praise him like he deserves it)!
I gave up completely my theory that he could be Sauron, so the writers better stay on this path that could lead him to be the most badass and mysterious character of the show (as much mysterious as Sauron and as badass as Galadriel or Arondir). Gandalf or not, i want to feel again the level of awe that his entrance inspired in episode 1.
But he's not the only reason that made the arc of the Harfoots in this episode so compelling. The writers clearly have upped their game when they introduced The Mystics (I loved the gothic visuals used for them this time: their scenes had an exciting and superb fairy tale vibe). Connecting the Harfoots to the bigger evil threat without cutting their internal communal conflicts was a winning move.
The crushed confidence of Nori and her legit anxious feelings didn't disappear after episode 5, and have contamined all the community with the incident with the tree. It was quite sad and so evidently unavoidable, I really didn't want them to part away with The Stranger, but i can't deny that he was too strong and too little in control of his powers to stay with them. But it was also presented in a way that kept their separation soft, warm and compelling to watch.
That's why i adore the little conversation that The Stranger had with Sadoc: because of all the regrets and gentleness i could feel on both sides. The scene where Nori offered him an apple to express her feelings of friendship is so lovely and warm, so pure and full of genuine sentiments, it reedemed everyone. So when later despite the terrible encounter they had with The Mystics in which they lost all they had, they decided collectively that it was necessary to warn him and help him, it was the cherry on the top of this sweet cake.
It's not all rainbows and unicorns though. As cute as Nori is, i really don't get why she talked to the Mystics instead of staying hidden? What went through her head? She caused such destruction by talking to the wrong strangers, as if what happened with the first Stranger wasn't a lesson. Her community lost all the food and the carts, they were lucky to still be alive, but nobody ever blamed her for it….
But they won me over with their sense of solidarity and collective decision making. I could more than see the characters development here, i experienced it emotionally: the Harfoots which i didn't want in the show after episode 1 have become more important to me, than the dwarves that seemed so cool and nice at the start of the show.
Next step to make them even more adorable: create the circumstances in which they are the ones who find Berek and save a severely wounded Isildur. I trust the writers to find a way to use the common love for apples between the Harfoots and Isildur and his horse to make them cross each other's paths. After helping Gandalf's doppleganger, they're ready to save Aragorn's great great great etc "grandpa".
More about Galadriel and Celeborn in the next post...
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scandalsavagefanfic · 2 years
Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.
Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤
I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.
Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.
That said, since you asked...
I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.
The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.
I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.
And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.
Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.
But those are never the stories we get.
⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠
I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.
Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.
In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.
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Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.
Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.
That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).
And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.
But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.
From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.
The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.
This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).
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This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.
This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.
This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.
As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 
Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 
This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 
The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 
Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 
But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.
I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.
(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)
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purplehanfu · 9 months
KinnPorsche: Episode 12
notes: Spoilers! content warning: pet death Ep 11 /// TOC /// Ep 13
In this episode: the tragic death of a beloved character, Duran Duran disappoint me and every single corporate sponsor comes out of the woodwork.
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Is there anyone more beautiful than this man? He is so unreasonably handsome.
Timecoded Review
1:44 Chay is so heartbroken that he sabotages his own future. Because hurting yourself is always a great way to get back at those who don't care about you at all. Porsche drops him off at the university placement auditions. Chay listens to Porsche's very sweet words of encouragement and then shoves his university application in the trash.
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5:46 Arm helps Porsche spy on Kinn as he attends a business meeting. 
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Arm is rapidly becoming my favorite bodyguard now that Sweet Pete has taken up with Vegas. Porsche is horrified to learn that Kinn manipulated him into becoming a bodyguard.
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13:00 Porsche and Kinn argue and Kinn drops this bomb:
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15:15 The two go to see Dad, who admits something we should have found out like 5 episodes ago: He knew who was driving the car that killed Porsche's parents and he helped cover it up because the driver was his friend. 
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Obviously I don't endorse that but kudos to this crime family for finally committing a crime.
19:19 Vegas' hedgehog is sick. Vegas decides to take him to the vet. He accidentally leaves the handcuff keys on the bed.
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You're the most likeable creature in this room, hedgewiggle
22:33 Pete frees himself but finds Vegas crying on the lawn; his hedgehog has died. I don't like Vegas but I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy- losing a pet sucks. Pete decides to stay and comfort Vegas.
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They bury the hedgehog in a little dirt mound that is going to get absolutely destroyed the next time someone mows the lawn. 
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Then they head back inside to have some sweaty, chained up, possibly consensual sex.
31:09 Kinn, Porsche and Chay have moved back to Porsche's house.  Here come the corporate sponsors! What kind of snack is just dry bread? And water? Ooh, how you spoil me Kinn.
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On to the kitchen where Kinn and Porsche are making dinner with Nick and John from Duran Duran. Porsche tells Nick that he envies his relationship with John.
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Nick tells Porsche that he and John aren't serious, directly contradicting the many fanfics I've read regarding this subject.  But enough of the relationship talk, it’s time for the next corporate sponsor- ramen.
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Ok this product is fascinating to me because I am curious to see how good instant carbonara can be. I must admit I'm skeptical because carbonara should use pancetta or guanciale not bacon, and there's a picture of swiss cheese on the package and carbonara generally uses Pecorino Romano. For more on this, see this post from @biochemjess​ (and check out all the product placement posts, they are hysterical). Back to the drama- Dad shows up to spoil the party, but he does give Porsche a photo and the address of the man who killed his parents.
41:32 Kinn and Porsche go to assassinate the man who caused the deaths of Porsche's parents, but they see the man with his granddaughter and Porsche can't go through with it.
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44:56 Kinn takes Porsche back to where it all began- the back room of Yok's bar. It's more romantic than it sounds. 
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They smooch as the OST plays.
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47:32 Uh-oh. Kim finds out that Chay never showed up for his audition.
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48:05 Corporate sponsor alert- hair dye. 
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Wow Chay really is on a self destructive streak- dying his hair and getting drunk with his friends. 
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Kim shows up just in time to stop Chay from taking that ayahuasca. Chay does not appreciate the interference. Side note: the color looks great, but somehow Chay managed to pick an even worse hairstyle.
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52:07 Porsche has ordered a variety of fried insects and is trying to tempt Kinn.
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Kinn makes an excuse and runs to the bathroom. 
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While Kinn is away, Uncle Bitcoin from episode 1 shows up and he wants both money (and probably not crypto) and to give Porsche a shocking photo- it's his family, and gasp! Kinn's dad.
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Ep 11 /// TOC /// Ep 13
Master list of all recaps
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S/O who has a dead relative
I wrote these up a little while ago so I’m just gonna post them now.
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Riddle is a very busy man so he might not be able to get to you right away
After school and all the chores are finished he will pull you aside and into his room
When you explain the situation he is calm and listens until you are finished
He then suggests multiple forms of consolation and has you choose
Whether it’s food, snuggles, comfort movies, or something else he will provide anything he can to help you feel better
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Definitely the type to approach you with food
He believes that offering sweets to someone will console them whether or not they choose to tell him what’s wrong
Very understanding of your situation and asks if there is anything he can do to help you through this 
If you need sweets or not it’s likely he’ll whip up a bunch of things for you to enjoy
If you want to talk he will sit down and listen to anything you say
Will give you the best hugs if you need them
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Nearly immediately he notices something is wrong
The second he gets a chance he will pull you aside and ask what’s wrong
When you tell him that your family member had passed away he abruptly pulls you into a tight hug
He wouldn’t mind if you cried on his sweatshirt
In fact he would probably put you in his sweatshirt before bringing you into his room and seating you on the bed
He makes you tea and lights some candles in the room to reduce the light
Your swathed in blankets and sip your tea
Jamil is a very thoughtful person so he would give you space if you wanted
If you didn’t though he would be sure to wrap his arms around you and hold you until you feel better
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Oh your mascara is smudged
How many times must he tell you to be careful about your makeup, it takes far too long for him to apply-
His original intentions of scolding you would disappear as he quickly approached and noticed your distressed state
Forget the mascara he can’t remember what made him come over all he is worried about is you
“Sweet potato, why are you upset?” 
You hurriedly explain what happened and he frowns 
Life just wasn’t beautiful at times and he wished there was something he could do about it
Nevertheless he quickly wiped your mascara, careful not to get it in your eyes, and pulled you into a tight hug
He acts like he isn’t all that worried but by the way he prepares a soothing bath, you can tell he wishes he was better with words
If he was he would say anything he could to help you feel better, but for now he will simply have to show you how much he loves you and hope that it will be enough
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Depending on how distraught you are, Malleus may or may not put you to sleep before consulting with Lilia
He is given advice on how to handle humans who are emotional and it is explained to him that loss is a very painful thing for humans to experience
When he wakes/confronts you, he does so with a hug and some tea
He isn’t sure of what to say, except sorry, so he is quiet as he comforts you
You are allowed to cry on him as much as you want and he holds you close as you do so
He feels much better when you stop crying and uses his magic to make you sleep (again)
“Rest well, my little spindle, for when you wake a better day will be waiting for you.”
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Lilia is quick to appear when you hear the news
As magical as he is, he always seems to know when you need him most
His cooking is awful and he is aware of it so he buries you in blankets and orders takeout
He knows your favorite comfort movies so he puts one on and snuggles close to you
His kind don’t necessarily die so it’s hard for him to understand, but he wants you to feel better so he will do anything he can to help you through your sadness
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The way he asked her to come to Barcelona… SO carlos of him I wanted to cry… AND THE WAY HE METICULOUSLY PLANNED EVERYTHING? I am sorry if you dont like / dont care about zodiacs BUT THE VIRGO ENERGY IN HIM JUMPED OUT, and I respect it soooo much. Everything he planned was so /him/, but also so so perfect for MC — the little gestures? Ordering for her? Translating everything for her? POSTING HER ON HIS STORY? God i literally melted
AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON HIM COOKING FOR HER… because god damn you Know how Weak I am and it was so beautiful, also the British breakfast once again just shows how much he cares for her and understands her🥹 i am just about to combust actually
AND THEN RACE WEEKEND? And everything with the green tractor and also MC and Sebs relationship? Once again nailed it sm god i love these teammates… and how she didnt want to fight Seb / come across like that because he just means so much to her????? Girl you got me on the floor rn…
What I cannot stop thinking about is how shes in for the championship, and as of rn so is Carlos… Will they be fighting each other further down the line or… 👀 Make up sex as an apology for aggressive overtaking again? Or podium celebration sex because BOTH of them ended up on the podium (Silverstone? 👀) So many possibilities omfg dont mind me
AND THEN LAST BUT NOT LEAST (thiugh i still have so much to say but my slow ass brain needs a bit of time i guess) the ending was just perfect… like am I the only one thinking Carlos didnt want to sleep with her pre race weekend bc he wanted to fully focus on her but couldnt with all the GO expectations around him? But now that it was done he could let himself fully focus on her and give her all the attention he thinks she deserves? God I love them sm… And the way you let all those emotions show through during the smut was just CHEFS KISS, the way they understand each other is just so 🥹🥹🥹 i have no words lol other than i’m SO obsessed..,
God i hope this all is legible its 4:14am now and i am prone to word vomit already when my brain is working so this may just sound like incoherent crap but i hope you know this chapter was SO GOOD, also the way you captured Barcelona imo was spot on like I wouldnt have noticed that it was all based on research and not personal experiences (though i guess i must confess i havent been to barcelona since i was 4 either… JSJDKFKF BUT YOU MANAGED TO CAPTURE THE SPANISH VIBES PERFECTLY THAT I CAN TELL YOU BC I JUST VACATIONED IN SPAIN LAST MONTH)
okay oh my god i am back from festival and i am finally going to reply to this without crying halfway through...
firstly OH MY GOD. you... you wrote all this... about my work?? I'm touched, I'm shook, I'm honoured, this is honestly the best feeling and probably as close to a "real" author with people analysing my work as I'll ever get and I am ABSOLUTELY here for it (especially as a literature nerd who loves to pick apart all of my books for fun)
haha I don't *dislike* zodiacs, I don't really follow them to that much detail but I vaguely have an idea of them. To be honest, the way I write Carlos is purely based on the guy we see as a Formula One driver and personality (but now you say that I totally see the virgo energy). ALSO I'M SO GLAD YOU NOTICED THOSE I am entirely convinced Carlos is a very detail-oriented person and especially when he is first seeing someone he would be really careful to go out of the way to do really subtle but meaningful things yanno?
As for the championship fight... well I don't want to give anything away but oh I *definitely* have a plan for MC and Carlos and the WDC ;)
Haha don't worry it all made sense! And thank you so much for the comment about Barcelona... it's a little embarrassing how long I spent on google for things to do in and around the city because I've never been to mainland Spain, so even if it's not 100% accurate I'm just happy the vibes were right!!
honestly just thank you so much for this, it means the absolute world <3 <3 <3
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bistevethor · 2 years
Steve Rogers Fanfiction Recommendations
Happy birthday, Steve!
I know that there are some (a lot?) of steve fans who sometimes struggle to find fics focused on him, so I am here now putting a list of Steve fics. I was going to fics that I haven't seen recommended a lot and most of the ones on this post have less than 200 kudos only, but I end up putting everything (it's probably easier to put my bookmarks as public but well...). It's a massive list (over 100 fics?), so it's will be separated into several posts/reblogs.
Not all of them are from Steve's POV or even have him as the main 'main' character, but rest assured he played an important role and is featured heavily. Lots of these are friendship-focused but I categorized them. The shippy ones are mostly samsteve, thundershield, and some rare pairings because I don't venture to other ships a lot and when I did it's to the rare ones instead lol. Hopefully, any of you can find some gems from this list and these are as enjoyable or as good as I remembered. I'll continue to update it, hopefully, every time I find new ones.
Fics are under read more.
The Rocket's Red Glare
Steve was born on the Fourth of July (no joke), so a party is in order! Unfortunately, PTSD decides to rear its ugly head. Fortunately, Steve's got an entire team at his back to help him through it. And screaming goats.
an entry in the scrapbook of absurdity
In which Steve turns into a baby and bites people.
Baby Steve Adventures
Captain America gets hit by a spell during a battle. The rest of the Avengers look after him.
Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't)
"Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.
In Search of (Bucky, Family, Home)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson
A week following the events of CATWS, Steve recruits Natasha and Sam to help find Bucky.
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Do we need to recap again? You were shot three times, beaten near to death by an enhanced super soldier with a metal arm and then almost drowned. Yeah, your ass is going to need a few more days of healing time.”
The Truth When Captains Meet
Steve Rogers wakes up on an alien’s space ship being carried bridal style by Carol Danvers. As far as first meetings go, it’s memorable.
Irish Coffee
Pairings: Jessica Jones & Steve Rogers
Jessica runs into an incognito Cap at a cafe. They form an unlikely friendship of sorts.
The Lifetimes of Steve Rogers (Series)
What happens when Steve Rogers steps onto the quantum platform to return the Stones? Where does he go? What challenges does he find? Who does he meet? How many lifetimes can one man have?
Fifty-Two Pickup
Less than a week after the fall of the Triskelion, Steve Rogers is released from the hospital. Although his physical wounds are almost fully healed, other injuries need a bit more time, and some help from friends.
little kids get big so fast
Steve ends up having to take care of the deaged Defenders.
Grampa Steve's Bedtime Stories
If Mommy was away for work, then Morgan’s Grampa Steve came over to stay with her. He’d tuck her in, let her give Mommy a kiss on video chat, then hand her the picture of Daddy for his kiss. Once Daddy’s picture was back on the bookshelf, Grampa Steve would turn off the bedside lamp so that Miss Friday could cover the ceiling with stars, and ask Morgan what story she wanted to hear.
“Captain Steve, Grampa! Tell me Captain Steve!”
Grampa Steve sometimes read to her from books and other times watched a movie with her, but her favorite by far was when he told her Captain Steve’s Adventures Through the Multiverse.
On Camping Trips
Sam is more Hermione than Natasha is, and Steve doesn't want to be Harry.
Steve loses the advantages of the super-soldier serum. This is not a tragedy.
His Dream
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
As if on cue, Steve cut him off with a loud sneeze.
"Yeah. Like that." Sam nodded. "And please sneeze into your elbow next time, dude. You could've just started an epidemic."
"Sorry. Allergies." Steve excused, and Sam raised an eyebrow.
"How do you know it's allergies?" Sam asked, and Steve sighed, putting the ingredients together and solving the mystery of what the gas had actually done.
The answer wasn't ideal. "It feels like the seasonal allergies I had before. Before the serum- and I haven't had them since the serum."
Realization clicked in Sam's head.
"The gas de-serumed you."
Steve swallowed and nodded reluctantly.
OR: Steve gets temporarily de-serumed, with his height and stature staying the same but his immune system being as bad as it was before, and has to stay in the hospital to prevent a severe allergic reaction or illness. Sam stays with him the whole time, making sure he's not alone.
A Strange Encounter
Things have gone awry and Strange is injured. With no other options, he's called for assistance from Captain America and his team.
even if we're apart, i'll always be with you
Steve finds a dirty toy bear at an abandoned gas station, on the way back from a school trip. He brings him home.
As Long as You’re Not Tired Yet of Talking
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
When Steve Rogers tells her, “Don’t be a stranger,” as they’re all going their own ways after New York, it makes her want to laugh.
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Natasha like knowing what makes people tick. She likes knowing things, about her teammates and her coworkers and herself. Oddly enough, sometimes other people like knowing her too.
AKA: Natasha wants to know why Steve isn’t drawing anymore, and takes the long way round to get her answer. Because why not.
With Magic We Do Fly
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers
In Civil War we see Wanda fling Steve into the air with her magic. They must have practiced that, right?
Que Wanda throwing Steve against a wall. Many times.
Just Like We Practiced
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers
Steve had said, in the movie when he asked Wanda to lift him into the building, "Just like we practiced." But just how did they come up with the idea of her lifting people with her powers, and putting them up somewhere like an escalator? Perhaps it was because Wanda accidentally sent a certain tall, blond Avenger face-first into the floor once and he decided he would help her learn to utilize this as a confidence building exercise. Natasha keeps an eye, Thor and Sam help build the training grounds, and Wanda has found her new home. Takes place between AGE OF ULTRON and CIVIL WAR.
Black and White but Red and Blue
They're watching black and white film reels, but Steve sees them in colour.
"My shield may be black and white but it was red and blue. Just like the blue sky under which red blood was spilled. Like Bucky's blue eyes and Peggy's red lips..."
The Road Warriors
Characters: Sam Wilson (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff
It wasn't pretty, but somehow the four of them managed to make it through two years on the run.
We'll Fix It
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Steve has a hard time after his battle with The Winter Soldier and isn't sure what to do with himself. After not seeing him for a week, Natasha finally shows up to his apartment unannounced to figure out how they can get back to work. There is some crying involved.
From Here On Out
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
The Accords, the search for Bucky, the fight at the airport ... In a world where nothing will ever be the same, sometimes the road to rebuilding trust and friendship is a little rockier than it should be.
AKA, the story of Steve & Natasha and how they got to where they are.
Set post-Civil War but pre-Infinity War.
I have this breath and I hold it tight
Parings: Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Vision
Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”
Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.
to you.
Pairings: Pietro Maximoff & Wanda Maximoff, Clint Barton & Wanda Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff & Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark
It's Wanda's birthday today. She's not sure how to feel.
New Love
Pairings: Diana (Wonder Woman) & Steve Rogers
Near the end of World War II, Diana Prince finds herself attempting to reconnect to her long-gone, beloved Steve Trevor. However, she comes across Steve Rogers instead.
Sharing Life (And Canned Green Beans)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
It’s Thanksgiving, and Steve is hiding in the second living room on the 8th floor of the penthouse apartments with a can of green beans.
I'm Fine
Steve slowly began to realize that the problem with being a national icon, a hero, and a role model, is that somehow, he became more than human. He become a symbol, not a person. So when he becomes increasingly unhappy, deeply depressed, and utterly adrift in a world where he doesn't belong, the loneliness and isolation are unbearable. How could anyone believe that an iconic hero like himself was really just an ordinary kid from Brooklyn, dying inside because everything he'd gained still wasn't enough to replace everything he'd lost? How could he possibly bring himself to bleed on the ones he loves? So he tells himself the same lie over and over, hoping one day, he'll believe it.
"My dog ate my mission report" An injured Steve remembers something he has to do. Unabashed Steve and dogs fluff. "Didn't peg you for a pet guy." "Allergies."
Alone In This World (Together)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson
“We’re fugitives,” Steve said finally. “It might never get better.”
“The world’s always going to need saving," Sam replied. "We’re still Avengers. No one can take that away from us.” Then, like they hadn't been having an entire conversation before, “So when do we leave?”
“Once night falls.”
Do we have any idea where she is?”
“No.” Steve took a sip of his coffee. “But I know where she’ll be.”
it gets the worst at night
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov
Here's how it goes: Natasha sometimes shares a bed with Steve. It's not what it sounds like.
(In which there are Colombian drug lords, awkward boners, cuddly super-soldiers and the Avengers are all giant dorks.)
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Sam and Steve, right after the fall of SHIELD.
Princely Bickering
Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Jane Foster, Steve Rogers & Thor
Steve allows Sam to lean up and inspect his head for bruises and blood. He then checks out Steve’s eyes. ‘Do you know where you are?’ Steve rolls his eyes. ‘Don’t be an ass, Cap, apparently you can break.’ ‘London, England, chasing apparently useless Hydra intel despite having about five hundred international arrest warrants out for us because we’re just that stupid,’ says Steve. Sam pats him - gently - on the shoulder. Life on the run isn't easy, especially not after an injury. Fortunately Steve still has a few allies left.
And The Seconds Tick Down
AU of Civil War. How the world ended in twenty steps when Steve died.
"Grant" and "Francis" Go Shopping
Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers
Steve and Clint both have holiday shopping to do for their family of choice, so they make a day trip to an outlet mall, have a few heart to hearts, use some coupons, buy a bunch of presents, and eventually get through their shopping lists.
A Tune Without Words
Pairings: Jane Foster/Thor, Steve Rogers & Thor, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
As he and Sam prepare to begin searching for Bucky, Steve gets various offers of help—some more unexpected than others.
Tony Stark wins the fight in Siberia completely by accident.
Steve Rogers does not resist his arrest as he is taken to the Raft.
Sam Wilson, T'Challa, and Pepper Potts pick up the pieces.
Full of Wounds and Still Standing on my Feet
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff
The five times Steve looked out for Wanda, and one time Wanda decided someone needed to look out for Steve.
Three Awakenings
The first three times that Steve Rogers woke up during his first twenty-four hours in the twenty-first century.
Making Your Own Future
Characters: Steve Rogers, Diana Prince, Steve Trevor Five times -- plus one -- that Diana Prince and Steve Rogers encountered one another.
Better Living Through Pizza
Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers
Steve takes some time off from soldiering and Avengering to get his head on straight, and Clint is assigned to keep an eye on him, because apparently SHIELD believes in the blind leading the blind. Steve really needs a hobby, since modern television shows baffle him, but Clint keeps bringing him DVDs and pizza.
Five Times Clint Barton Spoke with Steve Rogers about Growing Old and the One Time He Didn't.
Pairings: Clint Barton & Steve Rogers
When Steve Rogers reappeared from the past as an old man, there was a lot of catching up to do. Clint Barton made sure nobody got left behind.
Hammer's Totally Heavy-Handed and Incompetent Revenge
"So, at the end of IM2, Justin Hammer swears revenge on Pepper. He waits until Tony and Rhodey are halfway across the world to launch his attack.
Unfortunately for him, thanks to SHIELD, Iron Man and War Machine aren't the only superheroes in Pepper's rolladex. Steve thinks Pepper's just swell and doesn't take too kindly to somebody trying to hurt her."
Cue badass!Steve and competent!Pepper
Fan Mail
Steve starts getting his fan mail and receives an invitation to the prom. Written for a prompt at the Avengers kink meme. It was a great prompt, and so much fun to write and get feedback for!
Prom. Steve 'Grandpa Iceberg' Rogers at a 21st-century high school prom. "This isn't happening. This whole conversation is just an elaborate practical joke. Bruce really just has orders for widgets or something."
Bruce waved the printouts at him. "Fraid not. I don't really do practical jokes. Messing with other people's moods just seems. I don't know. Karmically unwise."
Steve runs. People see Steve run. Steve gets adopted by the neighbourhood he runs through every week day morning. He finds this confusing. Tony finds it amusing.
Locks Not Replaced
Tony angsts back at Avengers' HQ, Ross is a bully and Steve makes sure he doesn't get away with it. In other words, there is much regret, a bit on the philosophy of locks, adventure and far too many Robin Hood metaphors.
For a prompt on the avengers kinkmeme: "...something different happens when Steve gets Dr Erskine's serum plus the Vita ray treatment... Steve does get taller and stronger, but when the first full moon hits, he turns into a big friendly looking dog. Yes, he's a weredog, not a werewolf."
Mission: Baby
Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
The Asset finds himself in charge of the care of a small baby, but somehow he knows—he has to protect the baby from all harm, whatever the cost.
14 Tracks
Pairings: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team 14 tracks from Steve's iPod and how they got on there.
Life Will Rattle Your Bones
Pairings: Erik Lehnsherr & Steve Rogers
Captain America and the Howling Commandos find Schmidt sooner than they thought... wait, what do you mean this is a *different* Schmidt?
In war-torn Germany, the paths of Steve Rogers and Erik Lehnsherr cross, part, and cross again.
come build me up
Pairings: Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
“Do you ever feel like -- like you joined up because you wanted to do good. You wanted to do the right thing but somewhere along the way, you just lost the whole fucking plot.”
“All of the time.”
Or: the one where Captain America and Agent 13 give long distance friendship a whirl.
Down in the Worn Out Place Again
Pairings: Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Wanda Maximoff
“You don't look a day over 85, Captain,” Wanda says.
Natasha smiles, just barely, and nudges Steve with her elbow. “She makes jokes now.”
(Post AoU, stories about friendship.)
Characters: Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Nick Fury Pairings: Natasha Romanov & Steve Rogers, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
In the immediate aftermath of SHIELD's collapse and Steve's plunge into the Potomac, Natasha considers her place in the world. Also the fact that Steve is depressing.
Timeless Classics
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Avengers Team Five An undetermined number of times (six, apparently) Steve unexpectedly got the reference (sort of), and one time everyone discovered something new together.
you just wait and see
Pairings: Rocket Raccoon & Steve Rogers
“Thor said you’re the captain.” Rogers says, his voice distant, sad smile growing into a sadder grin. “Tough job.”
The Small Hours
Pairings: Steve Rogers & T'Challa, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
"I'm not getting him back, am I." The words were flatly delivered – not a question so much as fatigued resignation. "We will do everything we can to help him," T'Challa quietly replied, but he wouldn't lie, not about this. Not to a fellow warrior he respected on and off the field of battle. "The possibility does exist, however, that the triggers are permanent."
The Man We All Remember From the Newsreels
Still getting used to the twenty-first century, Steve comforts himself with memories of long-gone friends. But Howard Stark, the man Steve remembers, is nothing like the man he sees in the newsreels.
we're all choir boys at best
Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm
You are totally getting laid tonight. "Please stop talking." You hijacked my brain first, this is totally not my fault.
Steve doesn't worry the first time he gets a bloody nose that won't quit. But when it happens a second, third, fourth... He, and his teammates, start to get concerned.
You Close Your Eyes and the Glory Fades
His body isn’t his own, he knows that, knew before the procedure that everything would change. That was the easiest thing to wrap his head around, actually, the physical changes. He’s used to his body betraying him, so this is just another thing to learn his way around. But the colors of everything, even the sliver of blue sky he could see, craning his head at the tiny window, look different.
Looking For Answers (From The Great Beyond)
After the Battle of New York is over, and Loki and the tesseract are returned to Asgard, Steve takes a road trip across the country, and tries to figure out what he wants to do next.
Mourning the Future
Steve's ties to the past and the future are pretty tenuous, and the serum ensures he lives in an eternal present state of ever-youthful vigour. When an old war buddy gets handed his last marching orders, Steve has to wonder if everyone will eventually leave.
Riviera Life
Sam and Steve have been traversing Europe looking for Bucky. Not everyone is convinced it isn’t an open invitation road trip.
Voluntary Bros.
Characters: Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm
"Dude, you could be twins, they tested you before they defrosted you to see if you were a clone or something, or if he was a clone," Clint said.
"I want to talk to him, I think. I mean, a girl threw her latte at me last week for not calling her back and this dude felt me up at an art gallery yesterday," Steve said.
Two Brooklynites and One Big Apple
Pairings: Miles Morales & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
“You did good out there today,” Captain America said, brushing a layer of detritus from his unfathomably broad shoulder. “I’ll see you around.”
“Not if I see you first,” replied Miles, fingergunning with one hand as he sent a web rope fwipping off into the distance with the other, catapulting himself away at tremendous speed.
... in which two superheroes battle with bad guys, embark on community art lessons, and a friendship forms along the way.
Battle Fatigue
Steve thought he was doing okay. Things weren't going great, but they were fine, manageable even, and then suddenly they weren't.
We Become New Yorkers (or: Five Times Steve Rogers Looked For Home, and One Time Home Found Him)
New York is a million cities at the same time. This is how Steve found his.
A beautiful day in the neighborhood
In which Steve and Peter learn that the best way to get through a bad situation is together. And to avoid collapsing buildings. And that concussions are terrible, terrible things.
Leviticus 25
"You want to save Bucky Barnes? You are going to have to put your own house in order first because he is going to need a rock to cling to. You are not ready to be that rock for him. You owe it to him -- and more importantly, you owe it to yourself -- to figure things out, figure out how you can be happy in this time and place, whether or not Barnes is with you."
Sometimes the road to recovery involves bowling. Conveniently, so does the one to the Grand Canyon.
Conversation in Wakanda
“I have been told that you had the privilege to share a training session with some of our Dora Milaje,” T’Challa says. “May I ask how it went?”
“Well,” the Captain huffs. “There’s no polite way to say it: I had my ass handed to me. Repeatedly.”
He sounds and looks utterly delighted.
Contact Light
Everyone thought computers would be the thing that really blew Steve's mind about the 21st century. They were wrong. When he finds out that he missed the moon landing, it's the start of an ongoing obsession with space that maybe involves Neil deGrasse Tyson, Twitter, and Star Trek marathons.
“This is Lucky,” Clint said when a dog got between him and Natasha. Lucky’s vest was bright, like desert mornings and night explosions.
“Does he help?” Natasha asked.
Clint pressed his hands flat on the counter behind him. “He saved my life.”
Natasha looked at Steve, her expression fierce. Steve resisted the urge to yank down his sleeves. Instead, he dug his nails into the puckered skin on his forearms.
AKA An AU in which Steve is a veteran just trying to survive (or not).
Peter doesn't expect Steve to show up at his house one night when he gets home from school. He also doesn't expect to have a long conversation with him, and choose to be on his side instead.
We're Happy, Free, Confused, and Lonely at the Same Time.
"Tony isn't sure, but he *thinks* Steve Rogers is going to try and argue with him about not being a kid, while wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and plaid pyjama pants watching a Disney movie. Tony really hopes that is the case. The Captain America voice looses all affect when wrapped up in that blanket and Tony can't wait to inform him as such." - The one where Tony realises that Captain America and Steve Rogers are not the same person, and Steve is so much younger then he thought.
This Isn't A Love Song, This Isn't A Fable
Steve's not OK with people's perception of Captain America, no matter what he says or how much he pretends otherwise. It's like no one in this time period realizes that there's more to him than a spangly outfit. And yes, he's including the Avengers in that. ... or, the one where everything's all right, until it's not.
it's safe here in our new world
Post TWS. In which Natasha and Steve go shopping, have Thursday night movie nights, and learn that Natasha loves to platonically kiss Steve. Which is good, because Steve loves being platonically kissed by Natasha.
Pairings: Matt Murdock & Steve Rogers
It doesn’t matter how many times you fall – what matters most is how many times you get back up. Steve Rogers knew this lesson far too well and it was one Matt Murdock had endured all his life. With both men at their lowest, could a chance friendship bring each of them to their feet again?
Everybody Eats When They Come to My House
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
“You’ll ruin your dinner,” Sam says, gesturing with Steve with his spatula.
i fear for the calendar; its days are numbered
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Before she goes off the grid, Natasha gives Steve her phone number. He’s honored that he’s the only one to be trusted with it, but quickly learns that she spends most of her free time texting him Dad jokes.
Status Quo Ante
Pairings: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
A tale in which Sam suspects he should be used to this by now, for values of 'this' that involve certain folks he hangs out with and situations he finds himself in, Team Cap becomes Team Ex-Cap becomes TBD, and nobody but Clint really wants to know what happened to Scott Lang's GI Joes. (Sam Wilson from the final scene to the mid-credits scene.)
The Glass Parade
Pairings: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Steve thinks that he’s seen Natasha be at least three different people in the short time he’s known her, and he isn’t sure which one is real.
In which the most confusing part of the future is how much Steve has in common with Natasha, and the fact that she seems dead-set on being his friend.
Still Life
Steve Rogers and a very modern form of art therapy. (The one where Steve draws himself out of despair and into some notoriety when his cartoons hit the internet, but he's still not allowed to look at Tumblr without an okay from Pepper.)
Selective Service
The serum's given Steve a lot, but it hasn't taken anything away from him. Not even the things he never wanted in the first place.
I'm a Hustler, Baby
Steve Rogers has a talent for pool--and for making others believe he's terrible at it.
The Healing Properties of Felt-Tip Pens
Rapid healing has worked wonders on Steve Rogers' body, but occasionally it really screws with his head. In the aftermath of torture, Bruce Banner helps Steve to reconcile mind and body.
If I Die Before I Wake
It's his job, as their leader, to endure the sadistic focus of their captor, and that is the one thought that carries Steve through.
Even Gods Do
Captain America doesn't have a good relationship with sleep anymore. Also, he's not a toy.
Under My Skin
Written for a prompt on avengerkink: I want to see something where, for whatever reason, Steve's accelerated healing turns out to be a bad thing. Something where the faster healing is making things worse. I would prefer something other than the standard, super-healing allows for more torture without death. “He's lucky – to have the serum, to have you all.” Tony wasn't sure about that first part. When one faced death and destruction every day on the job, there were many advantages to having a healing factor...and a great many disadvantages as well.
A Glossary of the 21st Century
Pairings: pre-Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Steve's sick of not understanding what's going on, and the team are not all that helpful, so he starts keeping an illustrated notebook for further research. With the help of wiki, google and Logan he starts to settle in and find his place in the twenty-first century.
Blanket Gift Policy
“You didn’t,” Bucky said, with no real hope of being contradicted. Clint shrugged helplessly and passed him the large, soft bundle wrapped in shiny purple foil.
“Sorry.” Tony covered his eyes with one hand.
“I’m getting a migraine.”
“So,” Bruce said wearily, “counting Clint, me, Bucky, Tony, and Sam, that brings it up to five.”
“Excuse you, mine’s not a blanket,” Sam said. “Mine’s a slanket. Big difference.”
Bucky resisted the urge to throw the whole heap of parcels at Sam’s head. “Because it has sleeves? It’s still a blanket, Wilson. They’re all blankets. Even Thor’s direct-from-Asgard raven gift delivery was a cloak, which just means it’s a blanket with a strap. We all got Steve a goddamn blanket.”
One Tin Soldier
Written for a prompt at avengerkink: Because really, under any other circumstances, why would they follow him when he's some guy who's younger than the rest of them (time as a Capsicle aside), who goes around wearing that spangly outfit, who's not even used to the modern world? Why Steve Rogers, rather than a Norse god or the CEO of Stark Industries or anyone else?
“Love is for children,” she'd said, but respect knew no such bounds. The five times the Avengers accepted Steve as their leader, and the one time they followed without question.
and if there's life we'll see it
Steve is instantly taken with this idea of having the picture of the person calling you flash on your screen when they ring your cell.
Secure Your Own Oxygen Mask (Before Assisting Others)
Steve keeps going, because they need him. Being Captain America - having the serum - is a responsibility and a privilege he takes seriously, and he won't waste it by sitting around resting in the middle of a crisis. But then the work is over, and the original victims of the crisis aren't the only ones needing looking after.
Way of the Eagle
Clint introduces Steve to kung-fu movies. Things escalate quickly.
Walking Wounded
In the aftermath of the battle against the Chitauri, Steve's doing just fine. Until he's not. Fortunately, Thor is a perfect mother-hen, Tony makes decent back-up, JARVIS is a genius, and Soap Operas are life-changing. (Or, Post-Shawarma Feels.)
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sashi-ya · 2 years
Hello! I hope you are doing fine! Can I request the rough sex OS (the jealousy one) with Law? And with a shy s/o? I have a soft spot for a possessive Law.
Hi! 👋 I loved this request in specific, I love possessive Law too!. I wrote this little OS on a modern AU. She is a coffee shop barista, and Law of course is a surgeon. I hope you like it!! 💖 Thanks for reading! ~
NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Reader ~ Possessive & Rough Sex 🔥
TW: Explicit sex, violence, nosebleeding.
WC: 2064
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A slow morning serving lattes and cold brews finds you bored, gazing several times at your phone screen, maybe your friends or your boyfriend Law sends something to pull you out from the boredom.
All the doctors, nurses and hospital workers are occupied with their duties, including Law. “He must be operating someone”, you think and simply grab a book, because these are the hours when no one enters your coffee shop.
The time flies by when you lose yourself in the written adventures of some books, so the workers begin to arrive at your shop hungry for lunch. You receive them happily, and despite you being a little shy, you always show a smile to your customers.
Mrs. Walker asks you for a special type of salad, but you don’t have it there on display. “I have more on the kitchen, wait a sec, I’ll bring you one from there!”, you tell her and head to the back of the store. When you come back, you see the only customer you wished never enters your store. He is an abuser, a stalker, a harasser. It is indeed Law's colleague. You haven’t told him, because you didn’t want to affect your boyfriend’s career as a surgeon, so you put up with that bastard's constant sexual advances.
You give Mrs. Walker the salad, and she walks away with a smile, because that son of a bitch looks and acts like an angel in front of the others, but when he is alone with you, he won’t stop telling how you should leave Law and instead try a good dick for once.
“Hello darling, have you already left Law?”, he greets you. You smile at him, you think you are not strong enough to confront him, so you just smile, close your hand into a fist and ask him what he is having. “Can I order you?”, he asks you shamelessly, approaching himself closer to you, laying his body against the counter.
You are disgusted, you just wish you had a gun to blow his head off. You smile again, and let a false giggle slip out of your mouth, but your eyes begin to get teary. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I saw you with a bikini on your Instagram post yesterday and I couldn’t resist!!. A vanilla latte would be awesome!”. He says, grinning at you. You nod, and head to the coffee machine and prepare his order.
You hand the plastic cup with the Latte served to the harasser, hoping, praying he would pay and leave as soon as possible. But this time, he goes too far. He has the audacity of snatching your hand when you give the cup to him. He pulls from you making your whole body hit hard against the inner part of the counter. Your face is really close to his, you start to panic, but you can’t make him let go of you. He keeps pulling, approaching his face even more to yours, “don’t act as if you didn't want to be kissed, come on, you little slut”, he says to you.
“She said no, bastard”, you hear Law’s voice and next the disgusting stalker receives a direct punch from Law’s tattooed hands. Yet, he doesn’t give up and stands up, hitting your boyfriend's handsome face. Drops of blood begin to stream down from his nose, and land over his white coat. Law uses his forearm to wipe the blood away and smiles at him. That son of a bitch was hurting, trying to steal what’s his. YOU. And he wouldn’t allow that to happen.
This time Law punches the guy on the stomach, and when he bends due to the pain he was experiencing, your boyfriend uses his knee to finish him. When the stalker finally lies on the ground, spitting some blood because of a pair of broken teeth, Law looks down at him and says “I told you to stay away from her. Get the fuck out of here”.
His colleague stands up and runs out of the store, threatening Law with suing him. “Heh...He’s not going to do any of that”, he says smirking, victorious and still nose bleeding.
You are crying, unable to move, astonished. He looks at you, and says, “Are you ok?”. “Y- yes. It's nothing…” you tell him, still not moving a single muscle. But Law, who had a different expression than he usually has, a more primal one, walks behind the counter and grabs you by your wrist.
“Why weren’t you saying anything to him? Why were you smiling at him? Stop crying”, he says to you, shaking your arm. “How many times I have to tell you you should be fiercer; I won’t be here every single time a bastard wants to fuck you!!”. You know exactly he wasn’t being unfair with you, but this was the way he had to tell you he was deeply worried by you… yet he continues. “I’m starting to believe you wanted him to do that to you, huh? you weren’t telling him nothing”.
“Law! that…. that’s not true”, you tell him. You have stopped crying, and you begin to get angry. “I must show you who you belong to, then”, he says to you with that grumpy voice and pulls you to the back of the store.
“L-Law… stop!! you are bleeding, let me…”, you try to say as he pulls from you, but he interrupts you. “Shut the fuck up!”. He was pissed, but… horny? You try to reach to his nose, maybe to clean him up, because he won’t stop bleeding, but he backs his head up, snorting his own blood. An evil grin draws on his face, and he licks the blood that slowly covers his upper lip.
“Oh…”, you voice, damn how sexy he looks. At first you feel guilty to feel so attracted to him bleeding, hurt, with his disheveled black hair and his white coat stained red. His intense grey eyes are fixed on yours, and shamefully, subtly, almost unnoticeable bit your lower lip…
“You are mine; don’t you know that?”, he tells you and begins to walk towards you. You remain still until his right hand starts squeezing your neck. “L-Law…” you gasp. “What?”, he tells you, pissed, approaching his face to the left side of your face. Your legs tremble, it’s not exactly because you are afraid…
He squeezes harder and harder the sides of your neck, you try to gasp for air and when you begin to feel lightheaded, he orders you to walk to the kitchen counter of the cafeteria. “Babe… the- the store is open. A client could enter…”, you tell him. “I hope so, so they learn who you belong to”, he says. “But…”, you try to complain.
“Shut up”, he tells you, and tangles your hair around his veiny hand, pushing you, in order to bend your body over the cold metal of the counter. He bends over you; you can already feel his hard rock sex against you. Law bites the shell of your ear, and then, without letting your hair go, turns your head to the side so he can invade your mouth with his wet tongue.
A ferrous taste from the blood lingers on your mouth as you make out. He moves his hips with a pounding motion. Your breasts are pressed against the metal table, and the thin fabric of your blouse allows the cold to hit and erect your nipples. “I’m in the mood to fuck you right now, no foreplay”, he says, and slide down your pants and panties with just one hand. You are left completely exposed to him, your ass up, you are ready to be penetrated.
He lowers his zipper down and frees his hard member. Law plays with it over your ass, pinning you to the counter, threatening to fuck you rough there. You beg him “please, no no”. “Haha, I know I know babe, I’m not gonna hurt you”, he says laughing with his lips pressed against your ear.
You are more aroused than you should be, but also really worried some customers might enter, so for a second your mind focuses on hearing if someone is there. But suddenly you are brought back to the kitchen, when Law roughly, violently, and with a grunt, penetrates you. Fast thrusts, fast and deep thrusts, stretch your walls, and the tip of his dick hits exactly that perfect point.
“So wet and tight… babe…”, he gasps as he feels your sex pulse around his dick. You can help but whine and moan his name, as he hits over and over that spot inside you.
You suddenly hear the bell of the door announcing a new customer entering the store. Panicking, you whisper Law “Babe… someone… e-entered…”. Your voice cracking with every thrust. “So what? you want to show them?”, he tells you laughing and fucking you even harder.
“Is anyone here?”, a man asks from the store. “Fuck fuck fuck”, you think trying to cover your mouth not to be heard by the customer. But Law has other intentions… “I got an idea…”, he says and pulls from your hair, still without detaching from you, to make you stand up. “Go tell him, you’ll be right there”, he tells you, with a devil grin. “What?”, you ask him, how are you supposed to tell him, being half naked, and with Law’s dick still inside you. “B-but Law… stop it” you tell him, mortified. “What? Are you ashamed of being fucked at work? Go tell him, don’t show your body…”, he commands and pushes you softly to the door.
Your heart races, your cheeks are red with that sex glow, your hair is a mess, you are sweating. Picking through the kitchen entrance, you greet the customer, “Hey, S-Sir… I’ll be right t-…” Law thrusts you, deep. “Theeeere… in a se-cond”. You barely managed to tell the guy those words, your heart -and your core- is about to explode. You have spoken to a customer while being fucked behind the thin wall that separates the kitchen from the counter…
“Good girl”, says Law enjoying your suffering and turns you around. He lifts you up and sits you over the table where you normally knead bread for the cafeteria. He takes off his white coat covered in blood stains from his nose hemorrhage and takes off his pants. He crawls over you on the table and begin to fuck you so rough, and while he does it with one of his hand, he pinches one of your nipples and twist the hell out of it.
He bites your neck; you carve your nails over his back. You are getting there, and he is too. Flour flying everywhere, your breasts look like cakes ready to be baked. Law has baking powder all over his nose. Pounding you, calling you “MY little slut”. You try to hold your moans, but Law slaps your cheek, and you are now whining, and crying his name. You have forgotten any shame, the customer, the food, the cafeteria.
You are about to come when you hear your name being shouted in horror. “Y/N?!”, your manager is right there standing, witnessing your spectacle… “What the fuck? a customer is waiting for you there… and you are... FUCKING OVER THE FOOD?”.
Law looks at you and hopes off. “Tch, I hate bread, fucking flour”, he says while brushes the rest of the white material off his shirt. You are sitting there, with your whole ass over the table, covered in flour, a white mess, half naked. You are a shy person… yeah… until today. “I’m sorry, boss. I’m leaving my apron and imma head out”, you tell him. “Right”, says your manager, still without becoming aware of what has just happened and walks away excusing himself with the customer.
Law and you quickly get dressed, both look at each other and begin to laugh uncontrollably. Once you are ready to leave, you bite the inside of your cheeks just to avoid laughing in front of your now -ex boss-. And while you are heading out, Law stands next to the manager, puts a hand over his shoulder and tells him, “Just for the record, she IS mine”.
You both leave, and continue what you have started at home… 💖🔥
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peachy-panic · 2 years
“Look at me.”
Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.
POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.
I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:
@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain
And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.
Without further ado.
PROMPT: “Look at me.”
WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!
He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house. 
When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area. 
At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds. 
Until now. 
Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.
There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end. 
In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.
“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm. 
“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”
Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice. 
The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.
When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.
Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that. 
“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.
He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice. 
“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist. 
The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit. 
So he does. 
Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.
All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones. 
Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck. 
“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.
Jaime’s blood runs cold. 
You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this. 
Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.
It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.
“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”
His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids -  leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet. 
“I asked you a question.”
“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper. 
It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy. 
The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.
He doesn’t want this.
It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.
But this isn’t allowed.
His Keeper is happy.
Please, please stop touching me.
He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.
Please don’t make me do this.
His keeper is smiling.
“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”
Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.
“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds. 
There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it. 
He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.
He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.
Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.
Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him. 
But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.
“Look at me.” 
For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right. 
Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.
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cozycryptidcorner · 2 years
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To Train Up a King, Chapter 1/5
Note: For this story, I'm going to do something a tad different. Instead of a full 10k multi-chapter story or a single oneshot, I'm going to do about five episodic 1.5k chapters that capture very short snippets of these character's lives as an experiment. I'd like to see if I can pull off full character arcs with that kind of restriction. There will be smut chapters that are longer (I think, I have them planned anyways), but the bulk of their relationship will kind of be like tv show episodes. 
Prince Naga/Assassin Reader
Chapter content: sfw, no warnings besides some innocent breaking and entering, and one decapitated head :)
He’s just as beautiful as the songs say.
This isn’t the first time you’ve crept up onto Shahira al-Malik’s balcony, flush with vines and florals, just to catch a glimpse of the famed bastard prince, but you’ve never done so intending to reveal yourself. Tonight, he’s hunched over a large, intricately carved and gold-gilded chest, silver-blond hair billowing out with the night breeze. You think he might be asleep, his scales glittering in tandem to the stars as you shift your view in the moonlight.
His room could easily swallow the entire apartment you hovel up in, large, sweeping ceilings with jeweled mosaics covering the floor and walls. Despite its majesty, you know it barely holds a candle to what the rest of the palace offers, a biting commentary to just how little he is valued in the family. Despite the bed being large enough to host a variety of characters, he seems to be satisfied with hunching over that chest, made of simple wood, an arm crossed over the top to keep his head off the distorted surface. His tail lays limply on the floor, twisting and crossing at odd angles.
Creeping around the capitol as natural to you as breathing, so even though you stand in full view of the room, he has yet to notice your presence. The bag hanging from your belt is heavy, you are careful not to drop it as you unstrap it from your waist, and even though your fabric rustles and your boots scrape at the floor when you shift, he still doesn’t raise his head.
Awkwardly, you clear your throat, and that catches his attention, head jolting up, body tensing. When he finally spots you looming over him, bag in hand, large, wicked knife at your hip, he slithers back, mouth opening to shout for help. Calmly, you raise your hand, showing you hold no weapons, and press two fingers to your mouth as a gesture of silence.
“Who are you?” He asks, but still loud enough to get attention from the guards he still thinks are posted at his door. Despite the low light, you can tell that he must have been crying, lips swollen, nose and the crescents beneath his eyes a deep purple.
“Do not be afraid,” you say, hoping to soothe his nerves with a neutral tone, “I am the assassin one of your brothers hired to kill you.”
His viridescent eyes widen with fear, his chest quaking as the idea of his shortened mortality reverberates through his soul. There are strange marks on the underside of his wrists as he raises his hands outward, as though trying to give you some wordless order. Instead, though, he’s yelling, “guards!”
He’s scared, you think, satisfied. His brother, the cocky thing, didn’t show the same fear even at his very end. “Your guards have been removed from duty for the night.”
He knows that you hold his fate in your hands, back pressing up against the chest as his tail folds itself out in front of him, as though trying to keep his vital organs guarded. As you watch him, letting him steep in that fear for just a moment more, he seems to accept the fact that he’s about to die. No whining, no pleading, a grim sort of terror keeping his body still, despite the fact you’re so much smaller than he, almost as if he’s well aware that you are so much more than your size and strength.
Satisfied that you place a healthy amount of fear in his mind, you throw the bag, and he flinches as though it might explode.
Keeping your tone soft and gentle, as though speaking to a child, you prompt, “go ahead. My gift to you.”
You don’t know what he might think is in there, but judging from his trembling fingers as he undoes the ties, you suppose that he might consider his death is inside. The moment he pushes the thick fabric open, though, his eyes widen and his chest heaves. Slowly, unsurely, he pulls his brother’s large head out from the bag, features so similar to his it could almost be like looking in a mirror.
His voice trembles as he asks, “why?”
“He wouldn’t give me what I wanted,” you say, taking a step back. “You can.”
“And what do you want?” He’s trying very, very hard not to allow his voice to hitch.
You pause for a moment, wondering how you’ll be able to put it into words. It’s a complicated thing, your desires- for you have many, and some are of greater importance than others.
“I will tell you later,” you promise, taking another step back. “This will not be the last time we meet.”
“Wait!” His voice trembles, traces of panic thick in his mouth. “How do I know this isn’t a trick? I- I could be the one to fall for his death.”
Ah, so his mind decides to start working again. You suppose you don’t blame him, you did catch him at his weakest, and you almost owe him some reassurances. Ensuring your movements are nothing like your usual quick and off-putting cadence, you tug at the scarf around your head and mouth. Just below your left eye, you have a large, gaping scar that almost looks like a cartoonishly drawn teardrop from a time when your reflexes weren’t as quick, and your sneaking skills weren’t as honed.
“How-” he starts, but you’re quick to interrupt.
“A knife,” you say, holding out your hands. “I will rid you of the head. The body will be found in the desert, plundered by bandits.”
It’s almost like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders, one much more severe than the thought of death. You know that his path to the crown is that much clearer; though the second prince would put up more of a fight than the first, it’s still one less that he has to worry about. When you take the bagged head back, he’s staring at your face, intently, though not just at the scar.
He’s trying to commit a murderer’s face to memory, you tell yourself, even though his quizzical expression looks more confused than focused.
As your fingers brush together, though, he blurts out, “you’re my age.”
You blink, almost taken off guard. “How do you know?”
“Your face,” he says, eyes roving over your features. “And voice. You’re not much older than I am, aren’t you?”
Everyone knows how old the princes are; even a crowned bastard like him gets fanfare and feasts when his birthday comes around, the bells in the mosques and cathedrals chiming once for every year he has been alive. You know you’re roughly his age, but your birthdays come and go without you even knowing the precise day, no fanfare, no gifts.
“I suppose,” you say, strapping the bag back to your hip, “though it doesn’t matter.”
“Everything matters,” he says, retreating back to a safe distance as though unsure of how much longer his good fortune will last. “I should thank you for not killing me.”
“You should,” you say, “that would have been the easier thing to do.”
“Then, why didn’t you?”
You pause for a moment, not entirely sure of how to put into words why you didn’t. Defiance, maybe, you never did like how pompous and sure of himself the first prince acted. It is definitely not self-preservation; this is possibly the most foolish thing you’ve done since you broke into that knife-obsessed banker’s house.
Finally, you settle on a simple enough statement: “I’ll tell you later. Goodnight, my prince.”
You hear him follow you as you leap from his balcony, watch him search for you in the shadows. From your perch among the trees and stones, pressed up against the outer walls of his small garden, you wait until he retreats back into the safety of his room.
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hotdamnhunnam · 2 years
Filthy Fucking Pet
A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which Jax Teller owns and abuses you like an actual animal… this shit is mad intense lol and Jax is an absolute alpha male asshole. **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**
Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dom!Jax, extreme degradation/dehumanization (master/pet kink, sweat kink, foot worship, ass worship, Jax humiliates you to the max, realistically this is not at all a healthy relationship) Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)
Word Count: ~2.6k
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**Please note warnings above**
Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…
Seriously, this shit is super savage and sick and twisted. You’re basically Jax Teller’s personal house pet. In addition to kinky stuff like rimming and the general vibe of extreme submission, this is also the first fic I’ve posted on tumblr that features foot worshiping (I swear I have no interest in feet irl really – as with pretty much all of the kinks in my kinkiest fics honestly, it’s just a theoretical fantasy that I have only for Charlie, and only in theory… since theoretically I have no limits with my sex god king…)
Anywhore, enough ado about nothing! 🙃 All of the kinks in this fic are mentioned in the above warnings, so please just be mindful of them before you jump in…
You used to be human. But now... it feels as if you've never been.
From the day you and Jackson first met, way back when, you had fallen in love with the crown prince. Fallen to your knees to serve him as his bitch and that's all you have been ever since. Pleasing him is your business. You're his little whore, and his personal pet: nothing more, nothing less. 
Anything but human honestly. You're whatever Jax Teller wants you to be. His kinky sex kitten, his filthy fuckpig, or his damn dirty dog on a leash. It's the best. You don't speak, you don't eat—not human food, at least—you just serve at his feet. This is your whole existence. And God, you feel so fucking blessed.
You spend all your days in his house, day in and day out. The castle of the king of Charming. It's such a gift just to live under the same roof as him. Whenever he's not home, you miss him so badly it hurts. But you keep yourself busy by doing the housework. Constantly crawling on all fours, you use your grubby paws to scrub the floor, and sweep the dust off of his furniture. 
Then once you're done with all your chores, you kneel down by the front door, and wait desperately for your master. Just counting the seconds until he returns.
Every time that it happens, the moment you hear the smooth roar of the engine as his bike gets in... then his powerful footsteps approaching the entrance... your heart starts to beat harder, faster. On fire in the presence of Jax. There is always a butt plug stuck deep in your ass, with a big fluffy fake tail attached. You're otherwise naked except for your collar and tags. 
And today, as your master comes home after quite a long time far away, you are happier than you can take—your whole body quivers and quakes, and your tail starts to wag.
When Jax finally walks in, you gaze up at him with wide, worshipful eyes. He's so damn beautiful you could cry. You yelp and whimper a few times in greeting, to express how excited you are to be seeing your king. By now your human brain has certainly stopped working. Your hungry tongue hangs from your open mouth, breathing needy and loud, as subhuman growls and thick gobs of drool keep spilling out.
He smiles down at you as he enters, worn out from a long day of being Jax Teller, the baddest motherfucker ever. He must be exhausted, no doubt. 
But still his gorgeous grin is big and genuine, bright as the sun, his slicked hair such a brilliant blonde, eyes as deep and as blue as the ocean. Clearly pleased at the sight of your tail-wagging motion, a signal of your pure devotion. 
"Happy to see me?" he teases playfully, as if he has to ask. Typical Jax.
You nod gleefully in response to that. Your perfect master reaches down to pat your head, stroking your hair now as you purr for him, showing how much you adore him, as his faithful little pet. 
"That's a good slut," he coos. "Go on, you know what to do."
Lowering your face to the ground, as ever eager to go down, upon those words he speaks, you hurry to remove his shoes. Those famously white sneaks. Then tug his socks off with your teeth—damp with a long day's worth of sweat, getting you drunk on his intoxicating scent, the pure essence of Jackson—then press sloppy kisses all over his beautiful feet. Servicing him like this is everything you need.
Ugh, you've missed him so much... full of love and submission, arousal dripping from your crotch, you stuff his socks into your mouth both at once, then lift your face off of the floor and sit back on your heels in your usual kneeling position. Your paws are propped under your chin as you blink up at him. He knows just what you want.
"Look at you, cunt. You wanna play fetch?" he says, chuckling as you bob your dumb head eagerly up and down. It's so much fun when he rolls his sweaty socks into a ball and throws it all over the house, for you to chase around. Playing that game is such a privilege. "Hmm, I would... but I'm not in the mood. Master's too fucking tired. Too bad for you, bitch."
Aw. Too bad indeed. Wallowing in self-pity, you pout and hang your head in a deep bow, but you know better than to plead. He turns to walk away now, and you follow at his feet. Crawling as you are it's always hard to keep up with his speed.
He's yawning by the time you reach the master bedroom. Some nights he has more energy when he gets home. Sometimes he'd slam you up against the wall and fuck you hard in every hole, wild and savage as an animal, filling you with his thick creamy cum, so deliciously full... 
Apparently not tonight, though. You can't blame him, you know. You can't blame Jackson Teller for any damn thing, to be honest. Of course not. Because he is your fucking king. Whatever he does, he's your master, your god; everything about his whole existence is flawless.
You watch in rapture as he strips naked, carelessly flinging his kutte and the rest of his clothes to the floor, and flops facedown in bed to lay his weary head to rest. Fit for the king he is, his bed is big and plush and luxurious. At this late hour, he's too tired to even bother with a shower, you notice. Fuck yes—that's how you like it best. 
Hopefully he'll let you use your tongue to clean up all his glorious sweat. Then whenever he leaves next to take care of business, you'll still get to savor his scent in his absence, inhaling it off of the sheets and the mattress. Your thirsty mouth is watering just at the thought of it, as you scurry all over the bedroom to clean up his mess. 
Gathering up all the clothes that he scattered, you can't help but take a deep breath. Inhaling the essence of this sinfully sexy bastard. 
You indulge in a whiff, as you slobber and sniff—focusing on the pits of his shirt so damp and sweaty it's obscene, and the rich-smelling crotch of his jeans, soaking up all the musk of his cock and his balls and his ass which smells so good it hurts—and especially his underwear... before dutifully dropping them into the hamper, along with the socks that you brought from downstairs. Though you hate washing Jax's sweet scent off of anything, one of your chores, of course, is to take care of all the laundry for your master.
"Get over here, bitch. You should clean up after me faster," he scolds, dominant voice husky and low, somewhat muffled as his head is partially sunken into one of his deluxe pillows. "Did you just get distracted by sniffing my sweat? You're such a greedy, filthy fucking pet."
You instantly start whimpering in apology, overflowing with self-hatred as you hasten toward the foot of his bed. You would say sorry, in so many words, if you could, as you should. 
But you can't, given that you're not human. And your master knows that of course. All you want is to worship his body, and show him you're sorry, but you need permission before you can move from your place on the floor...
"Crawl up onto the bed," he commands, well assured you will follow his orders as fast as you can. "Go ahead, you pathetic whore. Make yourself useful and worship my back. Can't you see I'm exhausted and need to relax?"
Oh, how you love when he lets out his inner beast and treats you to the absolute most savage side of Jax.
Though you also love when he is soft, when he treats you with sweet talk and cuddles you up... this is the side of him you adore even more. His abuse is just what you live for.
"I want a full body massage," he orders, as you set to work on his muscular shoulders. "Yeah, use those paws. And that dirty mouth of yours... so dirty... mmm, that's it, lick all the sweat off my body. Desperate fucking dog."
You don't need him to tell you—that is exactly what you're dying to do—but it's so much better when he does. So damn hot. It's insane just how much you get off on his dirty talk.
And he keeps going on as you worship his perfect physique. While your hands rub and knead every inch, your mouth traces a line down the smooth divine curve of his spine, running down the black ink of the reaper design, wet lips puckering into passionate kisses all over his dewy skin, slurping up each new bead of fresh sweat as it dribbles and leaks. Every so often, his degrading words and his delicious groans of pleasure cut to cruel sadistic laughter, whenever he wants to humiliate you for being such a freak. 
That just makes you love him even more. You're his subhuman whore, reduced into a literal pig as the maddening scent and flavor of your master makes you fucking squirm, wriggling like a worm, every sound out of your throat a squeal or a squeak. His savage strength makes you so weak...
"Unghh God, you're such a fucking animal," he snarls as you salivate all over his sculpted muscles. "Get that worthless face lower down where you belong. Yeah, you know what you want. Suffocate in my asshole."
And that very instant, you do just as told. You wedge your whole damn head into the sacred space between his sweaty cheeks, diving in deep, digging for gold. It's salty and sweet and so so fucking hot. You don't even care whether you'll ever come up for air or not. He's everything you need and all you want to breathe. Your king Jax Teller is a motherfucking god...
When he growls and reaches back with both of his strong hands to push his palms against your skull and smash your face even deeper inside his crack, the pure aggression of the act gives you a goddamn heart attack. 
Before you can even recover from that, he suddenly shifts—you gasp for a split second as his magnificent body lifts.
But the next thing you know, he is squatting low over your mouth, then sitting the fuck down till your tongue is lodged deep in his tight sweaty hole and his big heavy balls are completely smothering your snout. 
Jax throws his head back with a guttural groan as he starts to grind, taking your mouth for a ride. You could die just from that fucking sound, from the taste, from the feel of his full body weight as he shudders and sighs, dominating your face. Degrading you just right. You could do this all night. Then he looks back down, bright blue gaze locking with your eyes, open wide, sex-crazed and lost in a mad loving daze.
Is this fucking real? Even as it happens, you honestly can't fathom how good it feels...
And there's no way that you wouldn't notice, in this position of pure bliss, your master's fucking enormous cock. While you drown in his ass, savoring your sweet feast, that massive piece of meat is throbbing right above you like a beast, hard as a rock. 
"Fuuuck, that's it—eat my ass, you good-for-nothing pig..." Jax explosively grunts as his hot sphincter squeezes and strangles your tongue. "Look what you're doing to my dick. You're gonna make me fucking cum. That what you want?"
Ohhh Godddd...
He goes on before you can respond. "Well, that's just what you're gonna get. Ughh—such a good little pet..." he praises as he begins pumping himself, the pink tip of his dick giving off the rich scent of his juices, each sweet drop that glistens, all glossy and wet. Some of his precum drips to your forehead.
But that's not where his full load is going to land. No, that's all gonna go down your dirty whore throat. Jax then clutches the top of your head with one hand, fingers rooting hard into your scalp, making you gulp and gasp, as you suck on his ass, while his other fist jacks off his perfect dick, faster and harder with each fucking stroke. He's so hot it's a joke.
"Shit—gonna cum—take it, bitch... take it all till you choke..." he moans, pulling his ass swiftly off of your slobbering lips and then pressing the tip of his cock onto your twitching tongue. Blessing you with a huge load of sweet white hot cum. By this point you're struck dumb.
You can feel your eyes roll to the back of your skull, as you savor his flavor and swallow him whole. You are so goddamn grateful. Jackson Teller is feeding your body, your heart and your soul. 
You're reminded right now of what you've always known: that you are his to own. He is more than human, so much more, all that you live for... and you are so much less and always have been. Falling in these roles just feels so fucking natural. He is a fucking god—everything you are not—and you're a fucking animal.
Once he is done using you as his subhuman cum dump, your master is gracious enough to let you clean him up. You wrap your lips around his flawless cock to lick and suck off every drop. Pressing French kisses all across his freshly drained balls and his perfect pink asshole. Hoping that your beloved master knows he's your entire world.
"Good girl," Jax sighs, as your face nestles in the space between his strong powerful thighs. "Bet you wish you could sleep with me here in this bed. But that would be wrong. Don't you know where you belong, you filthy little pet?"
Ah, yes—you could never forget. With a whimper of submissive bliss, you give your master one last kiss, right on the tip of his delicious dick. Admiring how even right after he came it’s still so stiff and throbbing and thick.
And then you climb off of his mattress and crawl into your tiny pet bed, set right by his nightstand. The spot where you're so blessed to sleep beside this divine god of a man. You curl yourself up nice and small, into a little ball, so you can fit. And all the while you're still squealing like a pig. You just can't help it.
The king of Charming huffs out one of his majestic snickers at the sound of you grunting and groveling, so low-down and pathetic. "Goodnight, pig."
Your heart flutters—so grateful and glad that he calls you that, just what you are to him, always will be... so fucking filthy... you know that he is pleased, and his pleasure is all that matters.
You already can't wait till the morning when he'll let you drink from his dick, hopefully. But till then you'll just sleep, knowing that all your dreams will be sweet, for you dream of one thing only: pleasing your master.
And you're living that dream, as unreal as it seems. Your real life is as good as it gets.
You'll go on forever loving every minute of living with Jax Teller—living for Jax Teller, now and forever—as his filthy fucking pet.
… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️
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oh-boy-me · 2 years
I just read both the australia and museum post and the chaos levels are top tier, but like imagine the chaos that ensues if lord diavolo discovers about amusment parks and immediately just buys tickets to disneyland. Lucifer is basically the dad trying not to loose his children(lord diavolo included). Lord diavolo wanting to ride a loopy rollercoaster and just having the time of his life! (Also I highkey see diavolo ordering lucifer to make a disneyland in devildom tbh) Also mouse ear headbands!
This..... this took forever
Hey there anon!  Sorry it took literally a year to answer this!  If you’re still into Obey Me, I hope this was a pleasant surprise.
Also for the first time ever a scenario post is being put under the cut for length purposes.  This scenario is 2.6k words Jesus
Please note that the last time I went to Disney was in 2015, so anything that’s newer than that is taken from the extensive reading of Disney advice blogs I read in preparation for this post.  Anything older than that is likely from experience.
Also, I tried my best to keep this spoiler free for the attractions that can be affected by it.
So the Devildom DOES have the concept of amusement parks.  I slept on this ask for so long that we’ve learned about Devil’s Coast.  It seems to be more akin to a smaller-scale theme park, though.  Small-ish.  I’m used to NYC idk what constitutes as small.
Something like Disney World is on such a larger scale!!  When Diavolo heard about that, he knew they had to go.
They are going to Disney World in Orlando because it’s the only one I’ve been to.
Lucifer is REALLY getting tired of these field trips, but there would be no weird animals, and there would be no sobering lessons on global extinction events at a family-friendly amusement park.  He.  He can handle this.
Solomon has actually been banned from all Walt Disney theme parks.  We’re talking blacklist-level banned.  He’s barred from ever entering any Disney park ever again.  However, this was back in 1976, so this must be, like, his son or something, right?  There’s no way this is the same guy.  Thought the security guard who let him in.
What did Solomon do to get banned?  When asked, he only gave a curious hum.  “Yeah, I wonder.”
The place is split into four parks, so they’ll spend one day in each.
Barbatos continued to flex his power as the only one in the group with a brain cell, being sure to get them all fast passes.  He even set time back just for the passes while they were booking the rides they wanted to cut the lines for, so if they don’t get used he’s going to be very snippy.
Also for convenience sake this is taking place in an AU where everything is the same but COVID doesn’t exist to shut down some rides and attractions.
Day 1: Hollywood Studios
MC and Simeon basically have to coerce Lucifer into letting everyone run free instead of making them all line up with a walking rope all day.  He relents on the condition that everyone checks in periodically so he can at least know they haven’t killed anyone.
Nobody will check in except for maybe Beelzebub and those at Purgatory Hall.
Levi immediately gathered his fellow Star Wars fans (which basically meant calling over Mammon Belphie and Asmo and then pulling in two unsuspecting people suddenly given the title of “Star Wars fan”), and made a beeline for Galaxy’s Edge.  There’s a LOT to do there and damn it if he wasn’t going to hit all of it.
First up for their group is the interactive Millennium Falcon Smuggler’s Run.  They fail the mission.  Levi’s pretty pissed, but everyone agrees that it was fun nonetheless.  They really felt like they were doing a mission in the Falcon!  Plus, the gameplay element was totally up the alley of most of this group.  Simeon does feel a little nauseous from Luke’s jerky steering, though.
Did you know that Diavolo loves Toy Story?  He does.  He’s very much enjoying the Slinky roller coaster with Barbatos.
Barbatos would rather be spending time at the shows and performances, but oh no god forbid we don’t get an autograph from Doc McStuffins.  Lucifer please come find him and save him.
Lucifer somehow wandered into the Frozen Sing-Along Celebration.  He wants out.  Barbatos please come find him and save him.
In general, Lucifer isn’t a fan of these sorts of places, so honestly he’s just hiding from the others and waiting for today to be over.  Barbatos told him that there are parks that don’t revolve around rides and characters, and he’s holding out for those.
Luckily for them Diavolo wants to do LITERALLY everything, and that does include the shows, so Barbatos and Lucifer can have at least some fun today
Levi, Asmo, and Beel are about to start their relay for getting character autographs when Satan shows up out of nowhere and starts dragging everyone over to the Tower of Terror.  Solomon bars all attempts to flee on a certain Avatar of Greed’s side.
The line to the Tower is so long, and honestly?  Satan feels like the ride didn’t live up to the literal hour they waited to get on.  Like yeah it was fun, but way too short.
He voices those thoughts, and Levi, who Satan knows is afraid of heights, is pretty fucking livid and drags him to Rock n Rollercoaster as revenge.  Satan hates roller coasters.
As for the others, Asmo and Luke have a lot of fun on the thrill rides.  Mammon and Simeon do not.  Beel is a little spooked by them but still manages to have fun, while Belphie and Solomon think they’re alright.
Eventually, Simeon gets too sick to move, and they assign him to Luke.  They say it’s because he’s too short to ride some of the rides (even though he’s literally not, screw you guys.)
Barbatos messes with time a lil bit so they can enjoy the Fantasmic Show and Fireworks to wrap the day up.
Levi is very jealous of Diavolo’s Doc McStuffins autograph.  Somehow Asmo has Buzz Lightyear’s number.
Day 2: Animal Kingdom
Satan is vibrating
He literally instantly sprints to the Kilimanjaro Safari.  And good for him; that’s something best done while the sun isn’t high up.  The whole gang actually agrees to check that one out, and while Satan isn’t thrilled to be within 50 feet of Lucifer, he’s glad Simeon is there because he remembers how his presence lured animals out in Australia.
Simeon also finds himself pulled along the trails by Satan and parents watch in horror as a gorilla gives him a friendly pat on the back.
If you didn’t know, Animal Kingdom is divided into the two continents of Asia and Africa, as well as the secret eighth continent Avatar (2009).  Diavolo heard great things about the Flight of Passage ride, but he totally forgot to tell Barbatos about it, so they’re stuck on a three hour wait line now.
Levi takes Luke on the Everest roller coaster because Simeon saw it in the distance and looked like he was about to cry.  Levi wouldn’t shut up about how the yeti effect needs to be fixed and Solomon had to explain that the effect literally couldn’t support itself.
Simeon, having escaped a roller coaster for the first and only time on this trip, grabs lunch with Lucifer and Solomon and they enjoy the Lion King performance together.  Solomon’s the only one of them who’s seen the movie, but the others still found it fun.  Solomon keeps making up random plot points that don’t exist, though.  Remember when Simba was captured by pirates?
Mammon found the Bugs Life show very scary.  Normally Asmo would laugh at him, but he’s afraid of any bug he’s never seen before and at least Mammon was afraid of the things that were supposed to get you.  They agree that bugs are still not their friends.
Satan has many things to say about the Dinosaur ride and most of them aren’t good.  Belphie thought it was pretty ok, though.  Lucifer can’t believe there was a sobering lesson on a global extinction event at this family-friendly amusement park.
Diavolo is still in line.  Barbatos abandons him.  He accompanies Luke to the kiddie fossil thing and actually finds it more tolerable.  Oh yeah that’s the other secret ninth continent, Dinoland.
Beel and Belphie spend most of the day together at the various petting zoos.  Belphie comes back knowing more than he ever wanted to about conservation.  He thought Rafiki’s Planet Watch was going to be about watching other planets, not this one!
Asmo gets very interested in the costumes of the performers, as well as the parrots in the bird show.  He could probably make some really colorful designs with those as inspiration.
Nearby, Mammon runs into Kevin and squawks in surprise.  The zoo staff spend the next two hours trying to find the bird that escaped.
Diavolo says the ride was worth it, don’t worry.
Honestly this park has a lot of stuff that wouldn’t translate well to a funny scenario post so this part might be a little short compared to the others.  I can only talk about a zoo for so long.
Anyone remember the Honey I Shrunk the Kids 4D show?  Apparently it closed in 2016 to make room for more Star Wars stuff.
Anyway, at the center of it all there’s the Tree of Life, which is really pretty all day.  Lucifer is thrilled to have a decently obvious meet-up place, too.  They get to catch the brief awakening show at night.
They’re very bummed to learn the Rivers of Light show isn’t happening anymore, so Levi pulls it up on his phone so they can watch it in spirit.
Then Satan learns about the Wilderness Explorers badges and the others spend the rest of the time preventing too much collateral damage over the fact that nobody told him.
Day 3: Epcot
Finally, Lucifer thinks.  Boo, Luke thinks.
Beel didn’t expect this park to be that interesting to him (he’s much more into the wonder and immersion of Hollywood Studios and Magic Kingdom), but then he learned about the restaurants.  China, Norway, France, Mexico, Germany, Morocco, Italy, Japan, Canada--Canada?  Huh.  Canada.  There’s so many different restaurants from so many cuisines to try, and yeah he knows that it’s definitely not the same as going to the place and it’s overpriced (sorry Lucifer), but it’s all right there.  He makes certain to take MC on a deluxe Epcot restaurant tour.
Oh yeah MC.  That’s the first time we’ve heard from them in a while.  They’re doing whatever you want them to I guess.
Levi buys so much from the Japanese gift shops that he has to go back to the hotel for a bit to drop his bags off.
Satan and Diavolo aren’t much better, but their stashes are more varied.
Also, Diavolo found Mouse Gear, and bought everyone a pair of ears.  Lucifer says that everyone has to keep them on because it’s what Lord Diavolo wants, but he is by far the most upset about them.  Mammon snaps a picture and Lucifer throws his DDD into the lake.
Asmo and Belphie decide they’re gonna take it easy this day, and they nab Solomon and Barbatos for some exhibition hopping.
Luke finds Mission Space and please father no Simeon thought he was safe he thought he was safe here no please
Aside from that, though, Luke honestly finds this part of the park boring.  He’d have been more interested in these attractions elsewhere, but as a kid he’s in Disney for roller coasters and Mickey Mouse.
Simeon is very grateful that Luke doesn’t have much that he wants to do, because it means that he can enjoy the Gran Fiesta and Living with the Land boat rides and have a single moment where he doesn’t feel like he’s about to be sick.  He’s not even afraid of the rides; he just gets motion sick easily.
Asmo makes sure to see the Chinese acrobat show, and Mammon catches that with the show-hopping gang since there isn’t much he wants to do here either.
Epcot has alcohol and Solomon hasn’t been able to drink in ages so he really wants to spend some time doing that with MC.  No demons allowed, thank you very much.  He doesn’t hold his liquor as well as he’d like you to believe, but he just gets really talkative when drunk so it’s ok.
Epcot is a nice day to take a breather and Lucifer and Barbatos definitely needed a breather before tomorrow.
Day 4: Magic Kingdom
This is the day Diavolo has been waiting for.  The crème de la crop, the best park for kids and kids in a future king of the Devildom’s body.
Also I feel like now is a good time to mention that this probably isn’t a reasonable order of events because I don’t remember the map layout of these places idk Disney city planning
This time.  This time, Levi, Asmo and Beel are gonna get those autographs, dammit.  Levi doesn’t even know who half of these characters are but hell if he’s not getting their autograph.
Mammon actually really loves the mascots too, but he’s embarrassed about it so he’ll only try to get one if he can use the guise of MC wanting one.  MC, please help him out
Belphie isn’t big on rides, but he does have a soft spot for the more retro ones like Dumbo and Seven Dwarves.  And like I said before, Beel loves Magic Kingdom for its wonder.  So Belphie is perfectly happy being led (read: piggybacked) around by Beel today, because their favorite attractions match up pretty well here.
Actually, Beel’s favorite Disney movie is Lilo and Stitch, but.  RIP Stitch’s Great Escape ride 2004-2018
Diavolo and Lucifer take a moment to enjoy the Carousel of Progress, and they reflect on how much the Human World is always changing and how much about it they still don’t know.  It really does make them think, like.  Grandma found the VR games at Christmas!  The Devildom doesn’t have grandmas!
Mammon is terrified of the Haunted Mansion ride, and Satan has literally never felt so much schadenfreude in his life.
Mammon’s afraid of most rides to be fair, but he likes water rides, so Levi eventually takes pity on him and they go on Splash Mountain together more than once.
The Peter Pan ride broke down
Luke wanted to go on Space Mountain and Simeon was the only one around, so.  RIP Simeon ????-2021
Diavolo was That Guy.  If you know, you know.
Beel accidentally spun the teacups way too fast.  Not even Solomon got out of that one unscathed.
Following that, Solomon manages to drag Barbatos onto the Jungle Cruise while Lucifer is busy.  What is Lucifer busy with?  Riding the Buzz Lightyear shooting ride over and over until he hits every single target and gets a perfect score at a Disney ride, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve.  Anyway, Barbatos finds it really charming and Solomon finds it a nice break that he didn’t know he needed.
While looking for a food place that sells water for a reasonable price, a kid runs up to Asmo asking for a picture and autograph.  He’s kind of confused, but goes along with it to make the kid happy.
Turns out, Asmo’s so naturally charming that they mistook him for a prince.  Other groups see that family and follow suit.  Mammon eventually catches wind of it and shows up to charge a fee.  The parents are pretty sure Disney doesn’t charge fees like that, but their kids really want a pic with Asmo so they hand over the two bucks.  (“Oh it’s so low” come on Mammon’s not a dick to children.)
And that’s the story of how Mammon and Asmo ended up in Disney Jail.  You’re very much not allowed to pretend to be a cast member and then charge money for it.  Lucifer has to bail them out as their “guardian,” and as punishment they aren’t allowed to opt out of It’s a Small World.
Small World isn’t that bad imho, and those like Diavolo, Satan, Simeon, and Levi would like it a lot.  But Lucifer has been playing parent all day, Belphie does not like the noise, and Solomon has literally been on this ride at least fifty times.  Very mixed feelings on this one, but it feels fitting to end with that and a fireworks show.
All in all though this wasn’t the worst trip Lucifer’s been on (cue everyone applauding for some reason).
Barbatos by far had the least fun of them all because for four days he was stuck in a park where the mascot is a fucking rodent and he wasn’t allowed to annihilate Mickey Mouse where he stood
“Disneyland Devildom when” “Lord Diavolo, no”
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