#it feels like its only a matter of time before i start disliking them...

[rolandkaros]

by farrrr my most toxic trait is that the more popular something is the more i start to hate it even if i used to like it

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

The bedroom you were snugly in was dressed in quiet, its walls wrapped up in that heavy kind of silence that only came after a long, exhausting day of twins' parents. As to in their matter, they were finally asleep, snuggled in their sheets after ANAKIN SKYWALKER's bedtime story about a princess and a knight - you quickly had to come up with something else, knowing Leia’s full dislike for such stories. She was the epitome of the definition of not needing a knight to survive. She could have had it all done by herself, at least that's what she's saying.

You laid on the bed, tucked under the covers, chin propped on your hand, watching him move around the room.

Anakin was pulling an old, loose t-shirt over his head—the one that always smelled like him, the one that clung to his shoulders and chest before falling soft over his abs, the lines of his body still sharp and distractingly perfect even after a full day of wrangling toddlers and working.

You stared a little too long. Stared until your stomach knotted itself up in a sad, ugly kind of way.

Because there he was, looking like he could be carved out of stone —

and then there was you.

You tugged the blanket a little higher up your body without even thinking, voice barely a whisper when you finally spoke without much thought; it was already eating you alive.

"…Annie?"

He turned immediately, sensing the shift in your mood like he always did. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You hesitated, biting your lip.

You hated how small you sounded.

How insecure. But with his eyes gazing straight at yours as he slipped into the black shirt he used to bed, you truly understood what you just caught yourself in. It wasn't like you wanted to weight him down with your problems, he already had a lot on his plate. Yet at the same time, if you'd just brush it off, he'd know something is off, and won't let go of the subject till you'd eventually tell him

You braced yourself at the possible worst thing that could ever leave your mouth; you took a deep breath in, let it sink for a moment

"Are you still… attracted to me?" The words left your mouth too fast, too rushed, as if saying them quicker would somehow make them hurt less than they already did.

Anakin froze, a soft, almost pained crease forming between his brows. "What?"

You dropped your gaze to the blanket, fidgeting with a loose thread.

"I just—" you sighed, voice starting to crack.."I know you love me. But I want you to, you know… want me too. Not just because I'm the mother of your kids or your wife or whatever. But because… because you actually want me." You trailed off, cheeks burning, shame curling in your chest. You didn't dare to look up at him; there was no courage for that anymore "I just feel so… gross lately. Tired. Soft. Fat. Not like the girls you work with or--or just see on TV..And sometimes I look at you—" You swallowed hard. "—and I wonder if maybe you're just staying nice things because you're a good man..and not..because..you mean them.."

The room was so still you could hear the distant hum of the air conditioning.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You thought he might get mad at you; for doubting his love for you when he shows it everyday. He didn't say anything, and you really braced yourself to just brush off the subject but before you could even open your mouth to say anything, you saw him cross the room in three long strides—

and then his hands moved to you, pulling the blanket down, not to expose, but to pull you closer to himself. Anakin knelt at the side of the bed, face right there, one hand cupping your jaw so gently it made your throat tighten.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. Blue eyes burned into your watery ones, being so intense, so present; holding so much love.

"Sweetheart," he said, voice rough and low. "I’m gonna say this once. And you're gonna listen to me, alright?"

You nodded, tears already threatening to spill.

"I don’t just love you," Anakin murmured, his forehead dropping to yours. "I am in love with you. Every fucking day. Every hour."

You whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"And your body—" his large hands slid down to your hips, squeezing firmly, grounding. "—your body is the most beautiful thing i could ever imagine looking at. It gave me our babies. It holds my heart. It’s the first thing I reach for in the morning and the last thing I hold at night. It’s perfect, you are perfect for me" with that he kissed the tip of your nose, then your cheeks, then your trembling mouth.

"I don't want anyone else," he whispered against your lips. "I only want you. Always have. Always will."

You broke then, a little sob escaping with hiccuped apologies, and Anakin shushed you gently, pulling you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. With one hand holding your back, the other twisted to the side to turn the lights off, causing the darkness to touch the room. Then he cuddled closer to you, keeping a rhytmhmical tune slip from his mouth as he pulled a duvet over both of you, tucking you into the bed. "You don’t have to apologize," he said softly, rocking you slightly.

"You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to hurt. But don’t you dare talk about my girl like she’s anything less than a fucking masterpiece."

You clung to him, breathing in his scent, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your ear. And for the first time in days, the knot in your chest started to unravel. Anakin shifted slightly, hands stroking your back.

"You wanna know what I see when I look at you?" he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

You nodded wordlessly.

"I see my home," he whispered. "My safe place. The love of my life."

You sniffled, laughing a little wetly. "You’re sappy."

His lips curled in a little tired smile, a light sound of silent chuckle briefly following "I don't remember you complaining before, Rapunzel" he teased, kissing your hair once again "Thought you loved your Flynn Rider"

And god, you did.

You loved him.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite

[drakulana]

no strings attached // trafalgar law x reader

ᯓ★ summary: your situationship with law is on the rocks, what happens when you meet a stranger who looks a little too much like your captain?

ᯓ★ wc: 7.1k (i got carried away...)

ᯓ★ content: NSFW 18+, afab!reader, insecure reader, slightly obsessive law, unestablished relationship, alcohol consumption, oral (m & f recieving/giving), a little impact play, humiliation, edging, fingering, a little bondage, petnames, cheating (kinda not rlly), p in v, dubcon, safeword mention (not used), no y/n, nice little ending, lmk if i'm missing any!!

ᯓ★ a/n: i'm really excited to post this work. i've been working on it for quite some time. i hope y'all enjoy! (also bear w me, its my first time writing smut & posting it.)

⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹

the relationship between you and law was hardly established, and on the outside looking in, it was a fairly professional one. that being said, it was obvious that he preferred your presence over anyone else’s. you would help him with the things he needed done, the things he couldn’t get around to while he was working endless hours in his office. he would let you sit in his office while he worked, a comfortable silence being shared between you two as you both did your own thing. the relationship itself was very much a professional thing at the beginning. over time though, conversations between the two of you became deeper, and became more frequent. conversations that included things you wouldn’t tell someone in just a professional setting. the sharing of personal experiences and ambitions created a warm, safe environment behind the closed doors of his office. here, the world outside the door was just a little less hard to deal with. 

day by day, things between the two of you grew to be more than you had both intended. as things continued to become more intimate, it was only a matter of time before the two of you began to speak about your desires with one another. the conversation started as any other, but quickly got more heated the further it went on. question after question, both of you shared your own sexual experiences, likes, and dislikes. that night one thing led to another, and you two became intimate. sleeping with law was one of the best sexual experiences you had ever had, and the feeling was mutual, because now you were in his bed almost every other night. the relationship grew from strictly professional, to the two of you relieving each others stress at the end of the night. from the start though, it was very clear that there was nothing more than the sex, and in the morning it would go back to the normal, previously professional dynamic. both of you were content with this, and agreed it’d be better overall if this is how it stayed. no strings attached was less complicated, and safer for everyone all around. at least that’s what law was telling himself for the past few months that you two had been messing around. 

a few months into your sexual endeavors, the sex became less frequent, maybe once a week on average. law was busy and more distant, and you were trying not to take it personal. you would still sit in his office with him, and do the things he couldn’t get around to. you would help him out with whatever he needed. however by the six month mark, you two hadn’t been intimate in weeks. you had tried to come on to him, to initiate it a few times, but after being turned down you decided he was gonna have to come to you. you knew deep down it wasn’t personal, you knew he was busy. you both agreed to no strings attached when this started. there was no reason to get torn up about it. tonight though, you were in your head, and feeling undesirable. the crew was going out tonight, and you decided you were going to join them this time, rather than sit in law’s office in the silence that you usually would feel comfortable in. 

it wasn’t unusual for you to go out with the crew to a bar every now and then, but you hardly ever drank. tonight was different. there was tension growing in your head, and you decided having a couple drinks would aid the dull ache, and unresting thoughts. your third drink in, the muscles in your legs and shoulders had started to relax, giving way to the alcohol. a haze had glossed over your vision, and for a while you didn’t even think about how undesirable you had felt. for the most part of the night, you bonded and laughed with the crew. everyone sharing their own stories and making jokes out of their misfortune around the table while you were all growing increasingly drunk, reminded you of why you even came out tonight. excusing yourself to the bar while shachi shared with the table a story from the past that he told every time he got this drunk, you went to go get your last drink of the night, deciding this is where you cut yourself off. 

it was late, probably nearing about 1 in the morning, and you were really drunk. more so than usual. usually by this time you were back at the ship sitting in laws office laughing about all the things that were said between the crew, filling him in on what he had missed. you sat yourself down at the bar and ordered yourself another drink, pushing the thoughts of law out of your mind. you knew another drink was overkill, you were already very inebriated, but you didn't let that stop you. a man around your age had settled next to you. “her next one is on me,” he announced to the bartender. the bartender nodded his head, and slid you the drink. you glanced over at the man. he was fairly attractive. he had dark hair, some facial hair, brooding gray eyes, and was notable in height. he reminded you of your dear captain. the same captain who you had been trying to keep from plaguing your thoughts all night. “thank you,” you smiled at him as you took your drink and sipped it. “what’s your name?” he asked you. you gave him your name as a conversation was struck up. you glanced back at your crew, and they were engulfed in their own conversations, laughing at one another. you turned back to the conversation. the air at the bar was different than it was at the table with your crew. it was calmer up here, although it smelled stronger of alcohol, not that you minded. you could actually hear the tunes playing over speakers, it was an old song, one that you had heard your entire life, “my parents use to play this song all the time,” you had told the man sitting across from you. he smiled at you, “bring back any good memories?” he asked. you sat and you thought for a minute. it had been a while since you thought about your childhood. the life of a pirate usually meant an estrangement from parental figures in your life. there were a few notable memories from your childhood that you could point out, like your mother’s smile. how it would curl upwards, exposing dimpled apple cheeks, or your father’s laughter. it would boom throughout any room, bouncing off windows and picture frames. a sigh left your lips, “yeah, i guess there are a few good ones.”

before you had known it, almost an hour had passed and your ‘last drink of the night,’ had turned into four more. that’s when a question you weren’t expecting fell from the man who had been keeping you company, “do you want to get out of here?” usually the answer would be a fuck no but the alcohol had gone to your head at this point. the question oddly made you think of how undesirable you had felt in the presence of your captain, the same man who had to have been your new stranger friend’s doppelganger. it wasn’t like you to take someone up on an offer like this. you were not a one stand type of gal. tonight was different though. your insecurity was a flame inside of you, and you stupidly tried to put it out with alcohol, ending in it only feeding the fire inside you. you glanced back at your crewmates once again, weighing the options in your head. “why not?” you finally answered grabbing your things and heading out the door with your new friend. 

once again, you weren’t one to sleep with strangers. in fact you had thought one night stands were a thing of your past. but here you were, walking into this guys apartment for a quick fuck. you didn’t even know his name, but it was much too late to ask now. you almost felt guilty deep down inside for thinking about sleeping with another man, but there were no strings attached to you and law’s relationship. was it really wrong if there was hardly a relationship out of work and sex? you pushed away your drunken thoughts as the man led you to his bedroom. the apartment was neat, and smelled of wood and a slight cigarette smell. the smell wasn’t comforting like the pine and paper smell of law’s bed. the whole time you were with this guy, you were constantly comparing everything he did to law. he wasn’t as big as him. he wasn’t as gentle with you. his hands were rough as they roamed your body, gripping and groping in places that weren’t particularly pleasant. he didn’t satisfy your needs. the entire time, your captain couldn’t leave your mind. the stranger made you feel dirty. you didn't even finish.

⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹

back at the bar, the crew was getting ready to wrap up their night when the captain walked in. “captain! fancy seeing you here, you decide to drink with us?” shachi and penguin giggled, obviously drunkl. law looked at his crew almost annoyed, immediately noticing that you were not grouped in with them. “i thought (y/n) had come out with you tonight,” he stated, not answering the question that he was asked. 

“oh, she did,” someone chimed in. law furrowed his brows, his frown deepening, “well, where is she?” he asked, the tension in his voice growing by the syllable. mumbles of i don’t know’s and i thought she went back to the ship fell from multiple mouths. until someone else spoke up, “i think i saw her leave with some guy about half an hour ago,” bepo piped up, from the middle of the table. he was the only one who seemed to make sense. law tensed at the bear’s statement. “did she now?” he rhetorically asked, but was answered by one of his crew members. “yeah! he looked an awful lot like you too… weird huh?” they giggled. law was very obviously agitated. he felt a vein start to pop in his forehead, and for a second he could’ve sworn he felt betrayed. that was before he had reminded himself that the relationship that you two had was strictly work then sex. he couldn’t feel that way towards you, there was no reason he should. he only saw you as a close friend, right? he mulled over his thoughts before grunting, “tell her to come see me whenever you find her,” and with that he walked out the bar door, returning to the polar tang where he could work in his office alone. he knew that he hadn’t had sex with you in weeks. he knew that you had previously tried to come on to him and he rejected you. what he didn’t know was that you were just going to leave the bar with a stranger. 

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back at the strangers apartment, you had come to terms that the sex wasn’t good. you didn’t even cum. by the time the guy was laying down in bed after discarding the condom, you had already gotten dressed and were ready to go out the door. “where are you going?” the guy asked, looking at your shape in his bedroom doorway. “i have places to be,” you muttered walking out of his apartment, and making your way towards the dock. it was now probably about half past two, maybe even three, and you were still very drunk. you doubted your crew was still at the bar. the walk back to the submarine was one filled with shame. you felt dirty, and wished that you weren’t as drunk as you were. every foot fall came with the reminder of your weight, and every other step there was a sway in your posture. the lights glared in your blurred vision, and the thought that you might not make it back without blacking out crossed your mind until you caught a glimpse of what was both your solace, and your demise. the polar tang docked at the port.  

as you stepped foot on the ship, drunken guilt consumed you as you passed various crewmates turning into their chambers for the night. you were on your way to shower whenever you ran into bepo. “hey, captain wanted to see you when you have a moment,” the bear told you. on the outside, you had just nodded, but on the inside your heart dropped. you knew that law knew. law always knew. nothing could ever go under his nose like that. you decided you were going to shower before seeing your captain, to try to sober up just a little. besides, you didn’t want to see him with another man’s scent on you, and you wanted to scrub yourself clean.

you thought about the events of the night as the warm water cascaded down your body, soaking your hair. you couldn’t believe what you had done, or why you had done it. you scrubbed until you couldn’t, leaving your skin with a red hue to accompany the self loathe. stepping out of the shower, you hyped yourself up to face your captain, but you were sure you were not going to be able to look him in the face. consumed with guilt and shame, you had dressed yourself in baggy clothes, and made your way to the captain’s chamber. 

knocking on the door felt like an unnecessarily hard task. an ache settled between your temples as you urged yourself to just knock. after a few minutes, you finally knocked on the door, awaiting for an answer. there was a shuffle, and then a silence. as soon as you went to turn away, you heard a muted “come in.” turning the handle, you faced reality. the room was dark, other than the small light from law’s desk that illuminated the corner of the room. the familiar comforting scent of pine and paper, with a dash of ink filled your nostrils.  for a second you relaxed. that was until you met law’s eyes. he was sitting at his desk, hands folded in front of him. his eyes held a dark glint, making you shiver. you knew that he knew. 

“did you have fun tonight?” he asked. his voice bounced off the metallic walls of his chamber, making you feel small. there was a tone to his voice you hadn’t ever heard before, a new bitterness. a bitterness that was aimed towards you, it mixed with something that was almost envious. was that, jealousy? not knowing how to respond, you stood there for a second and let the silence engulf the both of you. it was loud, so loud that ringing set into your ears, amplifying the ache that had started outside the door. finally you answered, “not really,” a sigh escaping your lips as you spoke. your voice came out smaller than you intended. you kicked yourself internally. you thought you sounded weak. inside, law felt his jealousy ease slightly. a small sense of pride rushed to his head at your answer, you were clearly not satisfied with what you had tried to seek out. in a sense, he almost felt as if you deserved the lack of satisfaction. he didn’t understand why you didn’t ask him first, even if he did reject you a couple times. surely, you weren’t so insecure that you wouldn’t ask once more? another silence fell over the two of you as you took your seat in front of his desk. the mountain of papers sat on either side of him as you held eye contact with his. “did you find what you were looking for?” law had asked you, getting up from his chair, making his way over to in front of you. his tall figured towered over you, his shadow casting over you from the illumination of the small desk lamp’s yellow light. you stayed silent, not wanting to answer his question. you felt embarrassed, turning your gaze away from law’s eyes and down to the floor. a heat rose in your cheeks as he stood over you. “you know, when your captain asks you a question, it’s better to answer than to ignore it,” law started, dangerously calm. he lifted your chin up to meet his gaze, “i’ll repeat myself only this once. did you find what you were looking for?” 

the tone law had used with you made your head spin. it made your mouth grow dry, and caused you to stumble over your words. it reminded you that no matter what the circumstances were, he was your captain and he held every power over you. “i-um...” you tried to avert your eyes away from his but his grip on your chin never wavered. “no,” you finally were able to spit out. your voice came out small, pathetic, and it surely didn’t help that you were still drunk making them come out slightly slurred. you internally cringed at how you sounded in front of him. law crouched down to your level, now face to face with you. his stared into your eyes, hand moving to the back of your neck, not letting you look away, “and what exactly were you looking for, doll?” he asked you in a low voice. law rarely used pet names for you, every once in a while one would slip in the bedroom, but never in a conversation like this. especially not one you deemed to be a tense one. you opened your mouth, trying to form a sentence. finally, words tumbled out of your mouth, “i-i.. don’t know..” you voice shook, “i’m sorry la-” before you could finish, he cut you off. “address me in the proper manner,” he ordered. for a second you were taken aback, but you quickly fixed your mistake, “i’m sorry, captain.” 

“tell me, were you so desperate that you had to go sleep with a stranger?” he lowered his mouth to your ear, tucking a stray strand of hair behind it. his voice was no more than a whisper, but it still held such a dangerous air to it, reminding you that law’s reputation was earned. you didn’t know how to respond to him, truth is you didn’t know why you did it. at the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal with the whole ‘no strings attached’ agreement. you didn’t feel desired by law, and you were getting tired of waiting. you honestly thought he wouldn’t care. however, sitting in front of law made you realize that there were indeed strings attached to this arrangement. you knew he could be possessive, and it was stupid of you to think he would be okay with such a thing. a light kiss below your ear brought you back to reality. law’s hot breath fanned your neck as he lightly nipped, causing a heat to grow in between your legs. “tell me, did he fuck you as good as i do?” a small gasp escaped your lips. “o-of course not, la-” he cut you off, wrapping his hand in your hair and giving it a light tug. “it’s captain to you. that’s the last warning,” he spit through gritted teeth in your ear. he retracted his head and looked you in the eyes, “how about you show me how sorry you are,” with that, law released your hair. for a second you were confused, that was until law was undoing his jeans and pushing you down onto your knees. his long member sprung out of his pants as he pulled them down. he held his cock with one hand, and the back of your head with the other. he held your gaze for a second, silently asking if you wanted this. after a slight nod from you, his grip on your hair tightened. your mouth fell open at the sudden tug at your roots, law took this as an invitation to enter your mouth. 

law was hardly a rough lover, but you had also never pissed him off to this extent. his thrusts into your mouth were relentless, drool ran down your mouth as tears began to well in your eyes and fall down your face. it was becoming too much. you clawed and hit into law thighs, but to no avail, there was no stopping his torment on your throat. “what is it? i thought you were desperate?” he spit at you, holding your tear filled gaze, occasionally wiping a tear that ran down your face. this change in demeanor had heat pooling in between your legs, begging for some sort of friction. after what felt like years, law finally pulled out of your tortured throat. you gasped for air, holding onto his legs for support. your head spun, and for a second you could’ve sworn you started to see stars. a large tattooed hand gripped your upper arm, yanking you upwards making you stand on unsteady legs. before you could gain your composure you were bent over his desk, papers falling, and crumpling against you. you were met eye to eye with various pages out of medical journals, pages filled with your captain’s messy handwriting, and lists of numbers that you were too dazed to even comprehend. law’s left hand pushed down on your back, making you arch up into his figure. his right hand traveled down to the seam of your pants, dipping his fingers under ever so slightly. despite how roughly he handled you, he caressed your body with a gentleness no one would think was capable of him. he leaned down to meet your ear once again, moving his left hand up your back, his right inching further down past the elastic band of your pants. the wetness growing in between your legs became an ache. subconsciously, your thighs tried to squeeze together, to get some sort of friction, but law wasn’t gonna let that happen. he slotted a leg in between your two thighs to keep you from giving yourself any type of relief. you fought the urge to grind down on the thigh that he had placed in between yours. that left hand of his traveled from your back to your torso leaving electric pulses in its midst. he moved his hand up your torso, finding your breasts and taking one in his hand. his fingers rolled across the already erected bud eliciting a strangled moan from you. you jolted back into his touch. law let out a hum of approval before whispering into your ear, “did you tremble at his touch like you do for me?” he asked you. you tried to catch your breath to answer, only able to fill your lungs half way before letting out a broken, “no,” law stopped all his movements, depriving you of any pleasure he was providing. “no, what?” he asked you. “no, captain,” you answered him in another struggled breath. another hum of approval came from law. his actions continued. 

law pushed his hand further down your waist band, being met with the cotton panties you had slid on after your shower. his hand slid down your ass, grasping at it before moving down to the hem of your panties. you leaned into his touch, hoping he’d give you some relief, but he didn’t. he lightly rubbed your pussy through your panties, not giving enough pressure to actually relieve the ache that was starting to grow unbearable. “captain,” you breathed out, trying to grind down onto his touch, but to avail, he would not let you. law’s hand abandoned your breast, sliding up your chest to grip your throat, “if you want something, beg for it,” he ordered you. his grip on your throat tightened just enough to make your head spin. you gasped a breath, losing balance in your legs. a pathetic whine left your throat, “please, la-,” his grip tightened on your throat causing you to correct yourself, “please, captain. please, touch me,” you choked out. it was almost humiliating how desperate you sounded. law complied with your request. his fingers pressed into your wet core through the dampened fabric, eliciting a moan. he hooked his fingers under the fabric being met with your wetness. the hand around your neck craned your head towards his so he could look you in the eyes. his piercing gold stare met your eyes, “you’re this wet, all for me?” he asked you in an almost mocking tone, “is this what you wanted to achieve? tell me, is this what you wanted, doll?” his gaze never wavered, demanding an answer. the truth was, you didn’t really know the answer. you wanted to feel desired by law, and it was clearer than ever that he definitely desired you. you didn’t know law was going to react this strenuously. you thought it was going to be an argument. in a way, this was what you wanted. you must’ve taken too long to answer, law brought your face closer to his, “answer me,” tears welled in your eyes as you nodded at your captain. he let out a huff before shoving two long fingers into your wet cunt. a moan ripped from your throat as he thrusted into your pussy. jagged breaths, and strangled sniffles wracked your body. “you crying? you wanted this,” he spit at you before letting go of your throat. his fingers pulled out of you, leaving you on edge, a whine leaving you, “tell me you want this,” he demanded you. a vigorous nod came from you, “i want this. this is what i wanted,” you slurred to him.  law's hands made their way to your pants, finally pulling them down along with your panties. goosebumps rose to the surface of your skin as the cool air of the ship hit it. you heard a rustling behind you, and then felt law’s thick cock press against your hot core.  

your head spun, and your hands grasped at papers. law grabbed your hands, holding them behind his back, mumbling something along the lines of, don’t go messing up all my work now, as if he wasn’t the one who pinned you to the surface. you heard a jingling of a belt, and then felt cool leather wrapping around your wrists. the action was domineering, but his movements were kept sweet. his breath fanned over your ear, making you shiver, “give me a safe word,” he told you as he fastened your arms behind your back. law paused his movements as you tried to gather your thoughts into a single cohesive word. law’s actions had your world spinning, lining your visions with stars. you finally breathed out the word. seconds later, law was back to what he was doing. you struggled from underneath him, as he gathered your wetness on his tip, spreading it over your pussy before pushing the tip in. law sucked in a deep breath, and you let out a moan. his hands pressed against the small of your back as he pushed even further into you. you both simultaneously let out a sigh. neither of you could deny the pleasure of feeling each other, being intimate with each other. it was a short moment, but a sweet reminder that no matter how rough law would get, this place was safe. 

law’s hips snapped back before he bottomed out all the way to the hilt, stretching you out. your walls squeezed around him, making his grip tighten on your waist. his fingerprints were sure to leave marks by tomorrow morning. breathy moans fell from your pretty mouth, coating law’s ears with that sweet melody that he had come to love. law’s thrusts sped up, and for a moment his hand left your waist, relieving the building pressure he was putting on your hips. that was until a large tattooed hand came down with a hard smack against your ass. you let out a loud yelp. law shushed you, “you wouldn’t want anyone to hear how much of a slut you are, would you, sweetheart?” he mocked you, “keep quiet,” he ordered you. another smack came down on your other cheek. “count,” he ordered, “that was two,” another smack. stuttered whimpers left your mouth as you tried to form the word that was stuck on your tongue. law cut through your thoughts, “that was three. come on now, doll, don’t make me start over,” he taunted you, his thrusts never stopping. another smack. this time you moaned out the number, “f-four,” it came out slurred, and weak. you could hear law smile, “good girl,” he praised you. he rubbed your ass soothing the sting of his spanks. just when you thought the assault on your ass was done, another came down, this one harder. “f-fiv..” you barely could finish the word. law tutted, thrusting hard into you, stopping once he was fully sheathed inside you, “is that the best you got? can’t take it?” he taunted. his question was met with a moan in response. he leaned over your figure, pressing your stomach into the hard wood of his desk. he thrusts continued once again, his hands back to soothing the skin on your ass. another smack, “s-ix,” you choked out, as a sadistic laugh left law’s lips. law brushed your hair over your shoulder, pulling up your shirt to expose your back. as fast as the cold air hit your skin, law was pressing warm wet kisses down your back, biting at your shoulder blades. long skilled fingers, massaged the muscles on your lower back, all while maintaining the arch he had you in. it wasn’t long before law’s thrusts started to get sloppy, his hand tangling into your hair, knuckles pressing into your scalp. your moans mixed with his grunts, filling the room with sinful sounds. you were just about to reach your climax, the white hot ball that was growing within you was finally starting to unravel when law pulled out of you. a whine left your lips in protest, but law pulled you upright by your arm. he pulled you close to him, “i’m not done with you, yet,” he told you. 

he lead you over to his bed, sitting you down on the plush surface of his bed. law kneeled down in front of you, pulling you to the edge of his mattress. he spread your legs, exposing your wet core to his room. law took in the sight of you from between your legs. your hair was a mess, your face was red, and your eyes were fogged over with lust. your body trembled with every breath you took. for a second, law almost felt bad for going so hard on you. that was, until he had remembered what you had done. you were his. you needed to know that, and he was going to make sure that you knew that by the end of this night. he would make sure you would have no desire to ever try to be intimate with another man other than him. law was a possessive man. he was protective over the things that he cherished. some would even go as far as to call him downright obsessive. he wasn’t spoiled, but he would see through that he would get this one thing that he wanted, and right now that one thing was you. 

law held eye contact with you from between your thighs. sweet kisses were pressed into your thighs. hums of contentment left you, and those sweet kisses turned into nipping and biting at the sensitive skin. law started to suckle on the skin, leaving red and purple hickeys to mark you. he would make sure from now on to leave at least one, so others who tried knew who you belonged to. the bites soon turned back into kisses, as he made his way closer to your dripping core. law looked back up at you as he let his tongue connect with your wet slit. he moaned into you, lapping up the sweet wetness that gathered at your entrance dipping his tongue in ever so slightly. law’s tongue traveled up to your clit, flicking at it resulting in your hips jolting up. the more law ate your pussy, the more you wiggled around until law had finally had enough. law took one of his arms pinning your hips down to the bed, muttering a ‘stay still.’ you obeyed. he went back to work on you with that merciless tongue of his, suckling and licking at your clit, traveling down ever so often to just ever so briefly fuck you with his tongue. you felt fingers start to run up your thighs slowly, eliciting sweet sighs and moans from your mouth, that melody that law would never get tired of. 

the tips of his fingers traced their way all the way to your dripping hole. his tattooed finger slid into you, smoothly, squelching the wetness against the knuckle, “so wet,” law whispered, more to himself than anything. he was always enamored by your pussy. he would spend hours in between your legs if he had the time. he loved touching you, working his fingers and his tongue on you, seeing what different reactions he could get out of you. where your favorite and least places to be touched were. he took pride in making you feel good. in fact, if he weren’t so mad right now, he’d probably spend all night in between your legs, but to him, you didn’t deserve that. you didn’t deserve the undying affection he wanted to give your pussy. however that thought did not stop him from sinking in a second finger, or from taking your clit in his mouth, rolling it against his tongue, spelling his name as if it were some kind of chant to claim you as his. 

your chest rose and fell at a fast rate. you were practically heaving for air. law loved having this effect on you. leaving you all breathless, and undone beneath his lips. he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your moans started to get shorter, and more close together, he knew that you were about to come completely undone. law decided he’d let you get to the very edge, make you think he was going to let you cum, but you didn’t really deserve that just yet, did you? he had to make sure that you knew that he was the only one who could demand and deny something like that to you. so he stopped. he pulled his fingers out of your pussy, your juices leaving them sticky and shining. he pulled his mouth away from your clit, leaving you a writhing whimpering mess. he shoved the slick covered fingers into your mouth, muffing your protests, “you will cum when i say so, understand that?” he asked you. you nodded around his fingers, causing a small twisted smile to grace his lips for just a second

he undressed himself the rest of the way, crawling onto the bed next to you, laying on his back. he grabbed your arm, pulling you over to his lap. “ride me,” he ordered you. you breathed shakily. as you positioned yourself above his member. law held a hand on your hip, helping you guide down onto him slowly. your breath hitched as you slowly slid down onto his cock. law was big. you knew that, but he seemed to always feel a few inches bigger whenever you rode him. you slid all the way down, your pelvises kissing. a deep groan fell from law’s mouth. you could listen to him make those sounds all day, if he’d let you. you slowly started to bounce on top of him, your arms still tied tight behind your back. your thrusts were sloppy, each one making another moan fall from law’s mouth. his hands gripped at your hips, guiding your hips in a more calculated way. law was a control freak, even in bed. “c’mon, is that the best you got?” he said to you, his tone demeaning and mocking. it was hard to balance when you had nothing to hold up your body. you wanted to fall forward, against law, but he held you in place. your eyes squeezed shut as you bounced up and down, law’s hand guiding you. his grip on you was hard, guaranteed to leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints tomorrow morning. your movements were unusually uncoordinated, and it frustrated you. a huff left your mouth, as you struggled to clean up your movements against him. law noticed this, “no need to get upset, baby. just do it right,” he taunted you. law would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying watching you struggle. getting all frustrated at not being able to preform the way you wanted. this went on for a few more minutes until law had finally decided to grant you some form of mercy. 

law pulled you off of him flipping you onto your hands and knees, your face smushing down onto his pillow. you arched your back, presenting your core to him. law admired the sight in front of him. the soft yellow glow of the bedside table lamp illuminated just enough for him to see the slickness dripping from your folds. he had never seen you in such a desperately needy state. part of him was rushed with pride. he made you this way, helpless and needy, all for him. the other part of him still panged with jealousy. he even felt a small trace of betrayal in the whirlwind of emotions consuming him. he let that drive him. that's what drove him to degrade you down to nothing but a whining mess. it was strange, a woman who held herself with so much conviction, groveling beneath him. it was interesting to him, how much power he actually wielded over you in this moment. it wasn't right him feeling this way, he knew that, but he couldn't find it in him to give you any mercy. a quiet and low sadistic chuckle left his lips as he traced the shape of you. his hands leaving warm trails over your body. you relaxed for a minute before one of his fingers had dipped itself into your wetness. a quiet moan left your lips, only to be replaced with a whine as he pulled his hands away from your body. 

law sat back on his heels, admiring you in this position. you truly were beautiful. even all restrained, and begging to be touched, you were beautiful. law couldn't fathom why he had even let you slip through his fingers in the first place. he never thought that you'd ever try to leave him. he understood why you did, but he never thought you'd do it. he swore he would never let you even try to leave him again. he would never give you a reason to, and if you tried he'd carve your pretty little heart out of your chest, and put it in a glass jar, just for him. he would put it on the edge of his desk, so he could watch it beat just for him. for now though, he would have to remind you that you belonged to him. tender hands undid the restraints around your wrist, rubbing at the freshly raw skin. his hands left your wrists, letting them fall to support yourself. his hands guided along every curve and divot in your body, leaving a warm sensation where his fingers trailed over your body. “so beautiful,” he whispered, more to himself, “and all mine,” he leaned down trailing kisses down your spine, and down to your ass. all the sweet, and tender touches were all halted with a harsh bite to your asscheek. a yelp left your lips, and an amused huff left laws lips as he retracted back, satisfied with the mark he had left on you. he turned you over to your back to he could gaze down into those pretty glistening eyes of yours. he leaned down, bringing you into a passionate kiss, before trailing his way down your neck and chest, leaving love bites in the midst of his teeth and tongue. “all mine,” he whispered once more, locking eyes with you, “who’s is this?” he beckoned you, almost mockingly. the word left your mouth without thought, “yours.” law was satisfied with this answer, propping himself up above you. he lined his cock up with your entrance, holding your hips up in just the right angle, before pushing back into you.

being inside you was pure ecstasy. it brought on emotions that law had never felt before. it made his head spin, and his cock twitch. you tightened around him, and he knew you couldn’t last much longer with how many times you had been denied. law felt his climax start to build, “you wanna cum?” he asked you. your arms wrapped around laws shoulders, nails digging into his shoulder blades, “yes, please captain, please,” you cried out. law’s thrusts were now sloppy, and his grip on you was tighter than it had been the entire night, “cum for me,” he breathed. the hot white fire started to finally unravel within your stomach. your slick walls tightened around him, pulling him in, milking his cock. your head spun, and stars collided with one another. both you and law's moans mixed filling the room with sinful sound. a few more strokes, and law was burying his seed deep inside you. 

law collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. his hands found their way into your hair, running his fingers through your tangled strands. your head laid on his chest, your eyes closing, welcoming the blackness of exhaustion. before you drifted off, a few words that left law speechless fell from your mouth. “i love you, law,” your voice was soft and sweet, and if it wasn’t so silent in his room, he would have missed it. he looked down at you. your eyelashes were now resting against your cheeks, and your cheeks had a rosy hue to them as your breathing leveled out. law had so many things he wanted to say to you, to confess to you. his tongue twitched to respond, but instead he pulled you tighter against him, deciding that conversation was better suited tomorrow morning when you were both well rested. for tonight though, law was going to relish in those words and let them replay in his mind, counting them like makeshift sheep as he fell asleep with you in his arms.

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@drakulana 2024 // i do not give permission to copy, translate, or repost, any of my content without my consent

taglist: @shuujin , @pinksaiyans , @buttmishaaaa, @tokaio, @augustanna, @sukilovesyou, @mschoiyuki, @songinabottle , @starlightanyaaa, @elen-alambil, @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

[yllwjktscult]

this is a very very VERY long rant, but it needs to be said, so:

This a friendly reminder that THESE girls are 17-18 (probably some even 19 due to being stranded here for year and half and not being clarified when they were born), they are JUST kids (i feel like most people are forgetting about this fact that these girls are just teenagers who were so excited to play soccer at nationals and didnt know, that they will be stuck in the wilderness for 19 months, go thru hell and do things in order to survive).

Ofc they will do questionable things that would make you hate them/dislike them, they are just kids. they didnt even thought they would or could get rescued anymore. They had to adapt to their new life out there.

so heres a friendly reminder that:

!!! Spoilers for S3 in here so dont read if you havent seen it yet !!!

THIS is a 17-18 (probably 19 at this time) year old lottie without her meds who just killed a guy because she wanted to protect her friends (mind you shes schizophrenic and she probably thought they wanted to harm them. First human contact in months, that werent her friends. she thinks what she she did was right :( )

she saw the hikers as a thread to the way they live now. Lottie probably doesnt want to go home because back home, she was 'punished' for her visions, but here in the wilderness, they were appreciated and seen as truth (which some of them were). She was appreciated and be finally herself.

THIS is a 17 year old nat who just killed her coach, who begged her for weeks to kill him. The only father figure she had, butchered him and got under a lot pressure of her friends for several things for months (she feels guilty for javis death, jackies death and now bens death. and as well the pressure of being a leader and before that, being the ones together with travis to be responsible for food)

THIS is a 17 year old misty who HAD to fight for ben in trial, who she talked out of a suicide attempt before. Killed her best friend. Helped to give BIRTH as a teenager (and took a place as a 'nurse')

THIS is a 18 year old Mari trying to redo whats done. The one shauna took her anger the most at. Knowing their way to back to society was just ruined because someone who she looked up to before just killed their ticket to home.

shes was a scared teenager who followed the one who leaded/was in "charge" because she was scared teenager girl who just wanted to survive and wanted to have someone to 'lean on' in this tough times, so ofc she will switch up when a new "leader" happens. She just want to live..

she didnt want to rat Ben out, she couldnt find a believable lie they would believe (and was intimidated by shauna). She voted him innocent the whole time. She saw him suffering and thats why she was glad Nat did what she did. She loved ben esp after spending time with him in the cave. She was glad he didnt have to suffer anymore.

THIS is a 17-18 year old Shauna who was butchering for months, not only animals, but also a kid, a kid she was close with. Shauna who gave birth as a teenager in the middle of nowhere without medical help and lost her baby, lost her best friend forever due to an argument all in just matter of months.

Her hate and actions this season are very valid actually

THIS is a 17-18 (also like Lottie, probably 19) year old Taissa who saw her soulmate (almost) die in front of her. Who developed probably DID due to the trauma and the evil Tai took over her to 'protect' her from it.

THIS is a 17-18 year old van who got attacked by a wolf who almost killed her (in fact she did die for a while and almost got burned in a plane) who just wants to go home even if its her mother whos neglecting and abusing her.

THIS is a 16-17 year old travis who got sa'd, lost his father AND a brother, had a pressure of being a hunter and provider of food together with Nat. Who got pressured doing shrooms as a form of therapy (and connecting to wilderness) and started his addiction here. He was an outsider, he didnt knew these girls as they knew eachtoher. He was all alone when his brother died.

they were just kids. ofc they will act like how they did out there. Ofc they would start a 'cult'/their own society in here. They didnt thought they could get rescued anymore. They gave up hope on that months ago.

the concept of wilderness or it is the girls coping mechanism to deal with the fact, that they are stranded somewhere they have no idea where they are and the fact they might have never been back to society again.

They accepted that this is their life, so ofc they would react how they did when there was a possible change of that.

In fact, Ben indeed was their bridge to home. If Nat didnt kill him, didnt 'celebrate' his death and if they didnt sing, the hikers wouldnt find them.

So at some point, he indeed did save them, not right away, but eventually. Because the hikers will get missing and a rescue will come look for them (because they know where they went) and instead of the frog hikers, they will find the girls.

You can dislike the character but keep in mind, those girls are just teenager girls trying to survive what life throwed at them, aka, being in the middle of wilderness.

Hating a character in this show is too much imo. All of the characters are beautifully written and portrayed by the actors. If you hate the character i assume you dont understand them (which is fine!!) but i feel like the hate is actually so forced and people are forgetting THAT THEY ARE JUST KIDS who didnt even in their worse nightmares thought they will be stuck in the wilderness when the plane crashed.

yes, each girl did some questionable things that might have make you dislike them, each one of them has their pros and cons but THEY ARE JUST TRAUMATISED KIDS TRYING TO SURVIVE.

me personally i am not a big fan of shauna and taissa, both adult and teen timeline, however thats what makes them so interesting to me. I wanna learn more why they act the way the do so i can understand them more. And i know, over time i will.

Lottie, nat, mari and misty are my favourite since season 1 for multiple reasons, but mostly because i see myself in them, not completely but i see myself in them.

so over all, this is just a friendly reminder that these girls, the ones you are hating on, are just traumatised teenagers who tried their best to survive somewhere in the middle of nowhere without knowing they will get rescued one day.

it probably does not make sense, but my point was just to point out that they are just kids and the hate im seeing everywhere on each mentioned girl (and travis) is making me sad.

Like, are we all watching the same show? This incredibly amazing show, that shows how trauma and ptsd makes you act/develops you into a different person?

[sickskz]

ILYSM. LOVE YOUR FICSSSSS LIKE FRFR🤞🏼🤞🏼

if i may request, a sickie jeongin in the studio with chan? maybe theyre recording something? Another jeongchan unit song??? It doesnt matter but like maybe jeongin just overall feeling unwell with a fever and a slight cough that’s annoying enough to make your eyes teary? despite all his “dislike” to skinship, he really craved one when hes unwell. THANKYOU ILY!

Good day! ☀️ thank you so much🙂‍↕️❤️

This is another two-in-one story combined with the anon who requested Jeongin with a headache/migraine 🕺🏽 hope you enjoy the fluff ✨

Shut the lights

Sickie: I.N/Jeongin

Caretaker/s: Bang Chan

____________________________________________

“Try again.” Chan's voice came through the microphone, steady and encouraging as his eyes stayed fixed on the computer screen before him. He was patient, far too patient sometimes, in Jeongin’s humble opinion. 

Jeongin swallowed against the scratch in his throat, wincing a little as he cast a quick glance at his hyung through the glass of the recording booth.

They had been working on their new unit song for hours already, a new project they had been eager to bring to life for months. When they finally got around to start recording the vocals, Jeongin had been buzzing with excitement. But as the hours wore on, that initial thrill had dwindled, polluted by a growing frustration..

Because he just kept screwing it up.

No matter how many sips of water he drank, no matter how many lozenges had dissolved on his tongue, it didn’t seem to matter. His voice still wavered, threatening to crack under even the lightest strain. Sure, his throat had felt a little raw the night before, but Jeongin had brushed it off as a consequence of overworking his vocal cords during practice. He hadn’t thought much of it. 

Now, he sort of wished that he had. 

Because the rawness lingered as a faint sting at the back of his throat, an irritating tickle that forced him to stifle small coughs whenever Chan wasn’t looking. 

It wasn’t too bad, but it was annoying. 

The worst part was probably the headache, which had served to be Jeongin’s most faithful companion ever since he woke up that morning. Even with painkillers coursing through his veins, it clung to him, ever so committed to its duty of making him miserable. 

By the time they had arrived in the studio, the dull ache behind his eyes had banded across his forehead with a constant pressure that made his ears pop and his vision flicker whenever he turned his head too fast. 

Jeongin had asked Chan to adjust the volume in his headphones maybe ten times now, but it still only seemed to get louder for each re-run. The sound grated against his ears, fuelling the throbbing ache in his head.

Then, for what felt like the hundredth time, he stuttered over the same line.

Jeongin groaned loudly as Chan paused the music once more, frustrated by his own body’s lack of cooperation. Like the many attempts prior, his voice wavered at the same key point, throwing him off by just a fraction of a second. Still, that was enough to ruin the tape.  

“Woah, slow down there.” Chan’s voice filtered through his headset, light and reassuring, as he watched Jeongin struggle. He knew the youngest had a bad habit of magnifying his mistakes in his mind, and he didn’t want him to dwell too much on something as minor as an off day. They all had them once in a while, after all. 

"What specifically is tripping you up, huh? Is it the melody? The rhythm?" His voice was calm and guiding, aiming to help his fellow member regain his usual flow.

Jeongin shook his head, clearing his throat as he tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a few fleeting seconds. “I don’t know, hyung..” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. 

That was a lie. He knew what it was; it was that damned headache of his. It kept blurring the lyrics on the page, making them unreadable one second and clear the next. It was as if his eyes struggled to focus properly, and even when the words were legible, his mouth failed to keep up.

Jeongin turned away from the mic and pressed his hands to his face, drawing in a deep breath to compose himself. The warmth beneath his fingertips felt unnatural, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether it was from embarrassment or if his headache had a more sinister origin. His pulse was pounding in his ears, throbbing in his temples… It almost felt like he had tiny hearts scattered all throughout his body. And no, it was not a pleasant sensation. 

“Innie, let’s take a short break, okay? Come on.” Chan’s voice rung through the headset again. His voice was gentle, yet somehow, it echoed far too sharply in Jeongin’s head.

Jeongin was about to comply, ready to pull the headset off his ears, when the room suddenly tipped before him. A sharp sting sliced through his forehead, and his breath hitched in his chest. His foot seemed to catch on something invisible on the ground, throwing him completely off balance and toppling him forward.

Jeongin all but gave in to it, slumping to a half-kneel on the floor as he hung his head, silently waiting for the pain to pass. It didn’t. Not at first, at least. He exhaled shakily, pressing his palm into the floor to steady himself.

He heard a muffled thump outside, then the sound of the door being pulled open and Chan’s hurried steps moving beside him. “Hey, hey, Iyen-ah, what’s going on?” He asked urgently, concern practically dripping off his words.

Jeongin waved his hand dismissively, trying to fend off the worry already flickering through Chan’s eyes. “S-sorry.. I think I just need to drink some water.” He reasoned, though the strain in his voice betrayed his obvious discomfort. 

There was a pause, and something about the silence felt awfully tense. 

“Water? Yeah, okay…“ Chan raised an eyebrow, not even attempting to hide the skepticism in his voice. As far as he was aware, Jeongin had already had plenty of water. But he wouldn’t push. Not yet. “Let’s get you to the couch, alright?“

Pushing his suspicions aside so he could focus and act accordingly, Chan quickly draped an arm around his dongsaeng’s waist to support him. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay, hyung, really…” Jeongin replied sheepishly, his voice tinged with embarrassment as Chan helped him to his feet. 

He managed to step out of the booth and shuffle to the couch without any further issues, but the tightness in his jaw and the subtle crease in his brow gave him away.

Chan noticed it, of course he did. He always did. But he pressed his lips together, biting back the urge to press him just yet. Just to make sure Jeongin had settled first. 

After guiding Jeongin to the couch, Chan turned to fetch a fresh bottle of water from the cooler. His expression tightened as he noticed the empty bottles still scattered around from earlier, a silent conformation that water alone clearly wasn’t a viable solution.

“Innie, you’ve already gone through three whole bottles since we got here..” Chan remarked, his gaze growing more pensive as he returned to Jeongin’s side and handed him the cool bottle. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” 

Jeongin pursed his lips, letting out a long sigh as he accepted the water with a quiet ‘thanks’. He knew his little stumble had raised suspicion, and that trying to chalk it up to his clumsy nature wouldn’t get him far. Not with Chan, anyway.

“I’m sorry, hyung, I’ll get it right next time, I swear. I think.. I think I just need a minute.” His voice was soft, and he blinked sluggishly as he sunk back in his seat, trying to push the discomfort aside. 

Jeongin kept his eyes fixed on the floor, deliberately avoiding Chan’s sharp, scrutinising gaze. He had definitely caught on, and he wasn’t buying his act one bit. Shit. How honest was he supposed to be again?  

The younger of the two uncapped the water bottle with shaky fingers, quietly taking a small sip as the silence stretched thin between them. The tension was palpable, and Jeongin didn’t dare break it. 

“Yang Jeongin…” Chan stepped closer, squatting down before him and placing his hands firmly on Jeongin’s knees, holding him in place. His tone was firmer now, though a thread of concern still lingered beneath it. 

“You didn’t answer my question..” he murmured, his voice carrying a quiet warning as he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Look at me.”

Jeongin hesitated, but slowly lifted his gaze enough for their eyes to meet. The previously stern look on Chan’s face immediately melted into a softer one. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” He repeated, his voice gentle but firm, clearly demanding a proper answer this time.

Jeongin bit his tongue, his finger unconsciously tracing small circles on the cap of his water bottle. “Not really..” he conceded at last, his voice coming out a lot rougher than he had intended.

Chan let out a sigh, a blend of exasperation and fondness woven into the sound. “That’s what I thought..” he muttered, giving Jeongin’s knee a reassuring pat before standing back up in front of him. 

“Come on now, tell me what’s wrong.” Chan’s voice softened and he sat down next to the younger, his arm draping over the back of the couch.

Jeongin shut his eyes tight, feeling his lips quiver in the slightest as he pulled his legs up onto the cushions. His head throbbed with an unbearable heat, the pain only intensifying with each rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat.

 “Just… head hurts..” he admitted, his voice a little muffled as he buried his face in his knees. 

Chan’s brows drew together in concern as he rested a steady hand on Jeongin’s back, rubbing across it in a soothing circular motion. Jeongin didn’t flinch or pull away. In fact, he ever so slightly leaned into the comforting touch.

 “Is that what’s been bothering you all day?”

Jeongin hesitated again, then nodded, shoulders slumping down in defeat. The lights from the studio, although bleak, felt awfully harsh against his eyes. Even with his face pressed into his knees, they were still too bright. He just wanted to hide away, to find some sort of relief in the darkness and sleep through the rest of the week…

Having undoubtedly noticed the unusual heat emanating from Jeongin’s back, Chan gently brushed his bangs aside to press his palm against his forehead. 

A quiet sigh escaped him as his suspicions were confirmed.

“Iyen-ah..” Chan murmured, his tone gentle but tinged with quiet reproach. “You have a fever.” 

Jeongin winced, letting out a frustrated groan. “Seriously?” He deadpanned, his heart sinking. “My body has the worst timing, I swear..” he grumbled sourly, his lips curling into a disapproving pout.

Chan couldn’t help the faint smile that flitted across his face at Jeongin’s disgruntled response. It was endearing, in a way, though he could understand where the exasperation came from. 

“Mm, yeah, it’s not ideal...” The leader agreed with a huff, a hint of fondness seeping into his words. Jeongin leaned back, lifting his head but keeping his eyes screwed shut against the blinding lights. 

“You can’t help it though. It happens.” Chan shrugged, giving the younger’s shoulder a small squeeze. His smile washed away in an instant when Jeongin’s face twisted again, discomfort written plainly across his features.

“How badly does it hurt, innie?” Chan inquired, keeping his voice low in an attempt to avoid aggravating the pain any further. 

Jeongin whimpered despite himself, cupping a hand over his face in an attempt to block out the lights that shone so mercilessly through his eyelids. “Feels like someone’s drilling into my skull, hyung…”

Chan's fingers curled against Jeongin's back as the younger man whimpered, the sound tearing at his heartstrings. He always hated seeing any of the kids in pain, and the vivid visual Jeongin’s words provided only exacerbated his worries. 

After a moment of silently watching Jeongin’s pitiful form shrink smaller and smaller on the couch, Chan let out a soft, resigned exhale. He stood up and walked over to the light switch by the door, promptly flicking off the harsh overhead lights. 

The studio’s ambient lights all dimmed, only leaving the faint buzzing lights from the computers and recording equipment.

“Better?” Chan prompted, his voice unwavering as he navigated through the dimly lit room and settled back on the couch. 

Jeongin didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still shut tight. The pressure in his skull was still too high, but much to his relief, the darkness helped soften the harsh edge of the headache that had plagued him all day. Slowly, Jeongin relaxed a fraction, his breathing evening out and the deep lines around his eyes softening.

“Better..” he confirmed. 

“Why didn’t you say something earlier, Iyenie?” Chan tutted, breaking the frail silence between them. He didn’t sound angry, but there was a hint of exasperation laced within his words that made something in Jeongin’s chest twist with shame. 

Jeongin shifted in his seat, quietly seeking the comfort of Chan’s presence as his body instinctively leaned against him. “I.. I was just really excited.” he admitted reluctantly, knowing how bad of an excuse it was. “I wanted to start recording.. and I didn’t think I was sick.. just, ugh, yeah..” 

Chan shook his head disapprovingly, but his arm wrapped securely around Jeongin’s shoulders nevertheless, wordlessly pulling him against his side. 

“That was stupid...” he said softly, tentatively running his fingers through Jeongin’s hair. “We could’ve postponed it until you’re feeling better, y’know?”

Jeongin felt a wave of embarrassment rise his chest, and he nodded faintly, curling in on himself. “Yeah, I know..”

Chan could feel the added weight of Jeongin against his side and smiled tenderly. The silent request for comfort was a rare moment of vulnerability from Jeongin, the kind of moment he hardly ever allowed himself anymore. 

Chan cradled his head against his shoulder, his fingers combing through Jeongin’s hair and carefully scratching against his scalp. With a quiet sigh, he slipped his phone out from his pocket and gazed at the screen. 

2:43PM.

The other members had all gathered at the dorm to enjoy their day off together, doing god knows what. Knowing their bandmates, though, it was likely a bit of a ruckus back there…

Chan and Jeongin had booked the studio to themselves for the day, and judging by the look of it, they wouldn’t get much more recording done for the time being. Still, the leader thought, maybe staying here was just what Jeongin needed.

“How about you try to get some sleep, huh?” Chan suggested after a moment of contemplation, leaning down to press a small kiss to the crown of Jeongin’s head. “Here, lay down…”

In a perfect world, Chan would have Jeongin resting at home, tucked safely in his bed until the sickness passed. But with the dorm undoubtedly buzzing with their six noisy bandmates, the studio felt far more merciful. Especially given the headache Jeongin complained of. 

Jeongin shifted slowly, stretching his legs out along the length of the couch as his head slipped from Chan’s shoulder. With Jeongin’s head resting in his lap, Chan noticed the tension in his shoulders, the way he still curled inward as if trying to shield himself from the pain.

“Do you feel nauseous or anything?” Chan wondered, gently rubbing a hand along Jeongin’s arm.

“Not very…’just wanna sleep..” Jeongin mumbled. 

Not very.

Chan pursed his lips, shaking his head lightly as he exhaled through his nose. He resisted the urge to comment on Jeongin’s vague response, to point out how the question was simple enough to warrant a yes or no.

But as he watched Jeongin curl up against him, a fleeting memory the younger boy at just seventeen flickered through Chan’s mind. So small, so impressionable, so vulnerable... Any frustration slipped from his mind in an instant, replaced by a familiar sense of protectiveness.

 

“Hyung…”

Chan was immediately pulled from his wandering thoughts, his hand stilling on Jeongin’s arm. “Yes? What is it?” 

Jeongin stilled for an agonisingly long second before speaking up again. “The couch is wide enough for two people…” 

That was true.

That was a fact.

But…

Chan blinked, his brain churning around the words as he discerned the true meaning behind them. Once it clicked, he couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at his lips.

“Ah.. is it really?” The older teased lightly, carefully shifting Jeongin’s head out of his lap so he could lay down beside him. 

As soon as he did, Jeongin turned over and pressed his face into Chan’s chest, tucking his head snugly under his chin. He latched onto him in an instant, and Chan froze, a little stunned by the sudden proximity.

Chan hummed, a touch of disbelief flickering across his features as his hands hovered over Jeongin’s back. It wasn’t unwelcome, not at all, just a surprising move from his usually touch-shy dongsaeng.

Then, without hesitation, Chan pulled Jeongin into his embrace, wrapping him up in his arms as their legs lightly tangled together. 

It had been so long since the younger had sought out this kind of affection, it almost felt unfamiliar. And despite the fact that Jeongin was clearly feeling unwell, Chan couldn’t help but feel a little victorious. 

He nuzzled his nose into the younger man’s hair, breathing in his familiar scent as he let his own eyes slip shut. His hands splayed across Jeongin’s toned back, and with a deft motion, Chan used his foot to kick a blanket over them. He gently tugged it over Jeongin’s trembling shoulders, a content sigh slipping from his lips as he pulled him closer. 

“Just sleep… I’m not going anywhere.” Chan promised in a whisper, unable to resist pressing yet another tender kiss to Jeongin’s head. 

For a while, the room fell silent once again, the only sound the faint buzz of the monitors and the steady hum from the AC. 

Chan remained quiet as the tension in Jeongin’s body gradually washed away, not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled over them. His fingers traced small patterns on Jeongin’s back, the steady rhythm of heartbeat becoming a soothing lullaby. 

Chan was almost convinced Jeongin had already managed to drift off when a drowsy voice caught his attention. 

“Thanks, Channie-hyung… I love you.” 

The words were merely a whisper, slurred and muffled against his chest, but still clear enough to reach Chan’s ears. 

Chan’s eyes widened, his body freezing in place as he processed the words, making sure he’d heard him correctly. 

Had he really just…? 

I love you.

The phrase echoed in his head, repeating over and over until he was sure the words had been carved into his very soul.

Chan resisted the urge to shout out in triumph, to squeeze Jeongin’s face between his hands, unable to contain the surge of affection crashing over him. Maybe even cry, because those three words held an immense weight when they fell from Jeongin’s lips. It truly was a rare, sacred kind of gift.

He hadn’t expected it. Not at all. Not from Jeongin. Not like this. 

And more than anything, Chan had failed to realise just how badly he needed to hear it. Judging by the way he his body was reacting, though, it was becoming all too apparent. 

There was something about the raw, unguarded nature of Jeongin’s whispered words that made the tears well in Chan’s eyes.

The younger remained oblivious to the turmoil he had set in motion, still nestled against him, blissfully unaware of the impact of his words. Chan, however, couldn’t stop the rush of warmth that spread through him, the way his lips twisted into a wide grin. He blinked against the wetness in his eyes, trying to collect himself before responding.

“I love you too, Innie…” 

His words were barely audible, a little choked up, but they carried the depth of every emotion known to man. He wasn’t even sure if Jeongin was awake to hear him, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was the fact that Jeongin, of all people, had told him he loved him. He hadn’t said that in forever, not unless it was part of a playful jest or some sort of challenge.

Sure, once he was feeling better, he would probably laugh it off, brushing it aside as nothing more than feverish nonesense. 

But Chan knew that, deep down, Jeongin really meant it. And to him, those words would become a cherished memory, a reminder of how deeply their bond ran and how much Jeongin truly trusted him.

Chan smoothed his hand over the expanse of Jeongin’s back, his fingers gliding across the feverish heat that clung to him. The younger man remained still, but the slight crackle in his breath gave away the subtle onset of congestion. 

The slight ripple in Jeongin’s muscles as he shivered revealed his body’s struggle as the fever slowly consumed him, whatever microbe invading his system clearly putting up a fierce fight. 

Chan sighed softly, tightening his hold on Jeongin once more as he buried his nose in the younger’s hair. “Hyungs got you..” he whispered, offering a quiet promise of solace amidst the storm. He would stay as long as Jeongin needed him to. 

No matter how long it took, no matter how many other responsibilities weighed down on his shoulders. Chan didn't care.

Jeongin came first. Always.

As much as Chan wished he could take Jeongin’s pain upon himself, he knew the best he could do was to offer a steady, unwavering presence while the sickness ran its course. He had done so many times before.. but this time, his determination felt deeper, more profound.

Because no matter how much Jeongin might deny ever saying the words I love you, that memory would stay with Chan forever, etched into his heart as something far more meaningful than a fevered slip of the tongue.

____________________________________________

It has taken me a while to feel content enough with this to post it, but here it is 🙂‍↕️ hope it’s enjoyable 🥹✨

Here’s a little insight into how I start my writing process when I get an idea 🤣

[kairismess]

this is what falling in love feels like.

🍰 genre: fluff ! ✒️ word count: 1,113 💭 summary: what it feels like for sakusa to fall in love for his dear old seatmate. 🍥 author's note: FUCK i did NOT anticipate it to be so long what 🎧song inspo: this is what falling in love feels like by jvke

it's hard for sakusa to focus on what the teacher is saying in front, what with you constantly grumbling and crumpling your scratch paper full of notes and solutions in frustration. he silently reaches over your table and plops a spare eraser he had to you. "please don't waste it," he advises you in a hushed tone, going back to the lesson at hand.

his ears perk up when you tell him a soft, 'thank you!' under your breath and erase away at your mistakes, prompting sakusa to prepare another eraser to sacrifice to you. out of everybody at school, only you never seemed to realize how much warmer sakusa was to you compared to everybody else. sure, you used to bother him a lot during your first year when you sat in front of him, but now that he sat in the same row as you, directly next to your chair, you had more opportunities to socialize with him (not that the feeling was always mutual, but he did often listen to you talk).

from remaining silent, glaring at you, and murmuring at you to please go away, he now remains silent... just with an inquisitive energy to him. it was rare for someone to change sakusa's view of them in a matter of half a year, but that was probably why he had developed such an interest in you. you were uniquely annoying, not insufferable, but you were more energetic than him, had a lot more to say, and understood him at certain times.

it was very hard for sakusa to come across a like minded person such as you, hence, he slowly succumbed to letting you just speak your mind to him while he just sat there, listening. that was the first sign he showed that he had some sort of uncommon feelings for you. komori would sometimes join you two, and even he noticed that whenever you tried to include sakusa in the conversation, he would reply to you; they started off as half-assed responses in an effort to satisfy your inquiry, but then, he started seeming a lot more... passionate about talking to you. it was like he enjoyed being in the conversation, all because you were talking to him.

sakusa would often offer you alcohol by readying his alcohol bottle out for you, hand you an extra n-95 mask if you needed it, and even reminded you often to take some vitamins and wear your jacket when its cold; even asking you if you've eaten during lunch, just to make sure, of course.

he also wasn't the type to want to go home with anybody who wasn't family, he disliked the idea of other people knowing where he lived when he wasn't even remotely affiliated with them. however, when he noticed you and komori sometimes heading home together, he'd tag along sometimes under the guise that he and komori had to run an errand before heading home, when really, all he wants to do is hear you talk and walk with you while the sun sets and the day's about to end.

"so... when are you going to confess?" komori asked the dark haired boy as he got a soda from the vending machine. sakusa replied with silence on his end, staring at the blank ceiling as he pondered on what exactly that meant. "...what do you mean?" "i mean like, admit your feelings to them?" the brunette reiterated, smiling awkwardly as sakusa crinkled his eyebrows. "do you not like them?" "...like in what way, i can say i tolerate them," "no, i-i mean... you have a crush on them, doncha, kiyoomi?" he asked sakusa, taking his soda out from the vending machine's dispenser, while sakusa's eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

"...a crush..." the wavy haired boy echoed, looking down at his and his cousin's shoes upon the dirty pavement. "yeah, they're like someone you think of a lot, like the way they behave, the way they speak, the little moments with them; like everything feels better when they're around!" "...feels better when they're around...." the dark haired boy repeated once more, the tips of his ears flushing a little red. "well, you don't have to figure it out right now, it's only been a few months, take your time," komori advised him as sakusa followed him, heading home with the boy.

that entire evening, sakusa lay in his bed, the same scene of him and his cousin by the vending machine by the dirty pavement playing over and over again in his head. then after that scene, he started thinking about the times he'd tag along silently whenever you and komori walked home together, the times you'd talk to him and bother him during class in your first year, the way you scritched and scratched at your paper whenever you made mistakes, how you never came to school with an eraser, hence he always gave you his; how he wishes you used his eraser every day, how he wished you'd think of him while you take your vitamins, or how he wished you'd remember him whenever you'd wear a jacket when going out in the cold.

and at that moment, sakusa's heart flutters for a split second; the color of his cheeks and ears became a deep hue of crimson...

"hey, kiyoomi, do you—" komori was about to ask sakusa for something when he came into his room, only to see his usually stoic cousin blushing hard in bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he had his hands clasped over his chest. "uh... y'good?" "...motoya, i think i have a crush," sakusa decided, slowly sitting up from the bed, his blush deepening into a scarlet hue as he looked at his brunette cousin; a dopey smile on the brown haired boy's face, he was in complete and utter disbelief at this news. "w-wow, great!" "it's not great..." sakusa insisted, his blush persisting as he furrowed his eyebrows and lay back down.

"a-and... why not?" komori asked, looking at his cousin with a confused glimmer in his eyes. "...because then i'll shake every time i hand them an eraser, i'll have a crack in my voice every time i reply to their questions, and i'll wanna be close whenever we walk together," sakusa listed down, his blush becoming a tart shade. komori chuckled and was about to leave. "well, my question can wait, but... that's completely normal, kiyoomi, i'll help you out with them!" "please, don't..." sakusa pleaded, flopping over onto his stomach, his face burrowed in the pillows. "...i'll start to think i actually have a chance, and that's the worst kind of feeling."

[taffywabbit]

oops i accidentally wrote a review for zelda II: the adventure of link

(originally posted to Cohost on Feb 22, 2024. you can ignore this if you want, i just wanted it archived somewhere before that site disappears)

Finally beat Zelda II for the first time last night (I forced myself to finish it before starting Splatoon 3's Side Order DLC, because I knew if I didn't push through to the end of the Great Palace THIS time then it'd be years before I tried beating it again. This is probably my 4th or 5th attempt at this point). Not that this is a particularly hot take by most people's standards, but I don't think it's all that good, at least from a gameplay standpoint.

I don't regret playing it though, because I think I'm finally able to put my finger on the stuff I actually disliked about it vs the stuff that was honestly fine, or even (very rarely) actually good? I'm kinda fascinated by it, honestly. Sequels where they immediately screw around with the first game's formula (to mixed results) are neat! FE Gaiden is another example that comes to mind (hey they should give Zelda II the Shadows of Valentia treatment, that could be really cool actually).

Obviously Zelda II has a reputation for being kind of a rough experience. It's an NES game, and NES games are often susceptible to being frustrating, buggy, hard to control, or overly punishing. Sometimes, all of the above! And for what it's worth, the original Legend of Zelda was a tough and sometimes very cryptic experience as well. But I feel like the two games are challenging in drastically different ways, and I think TLoZ ended up being the formula that was retained in the long term primarily because its method of challenging the player overall did a better job of inspiring curiosity and exploration. Despite narratively being a direct sequel (with a really badass story premise that is unfortunately not really conveyed at all in-game) Zelda II took a different approach to nearly every element of the original's gameplay, which is a pretty bold move I suppose. Whether or not it succeeds at anything is fairly subjective, but it's undeniably had a lasting impact on the series, as well as the people who grew up with it (and then they went on to make some really excellent mid-2000's flash games inspired by it that I frankly enjoyed a lot more than this... and also a weirdly solid licensed Adventure Time game on the 3DS? I should go back and play that sometime, it's really fun).

Where to start with this...? Uhhh, the EXP-based leveling system where you choose what stats to put your points into is interesting! It creates a risk-and-reward system for fighting enemies instead of avoiding them, whereas in most other Zelda games besides BotW/TotK, the only reward for killing monsters is "they are no longer bothering you while you solve puzzles, and also sometimes they drop rupees/hearts/ammo". It also introduces a bit more player choice in what areas you'd like to get stronger in first, which is cool! I just wish it actually mattered in a way that let you feel powerful for even a moment. Instead, leveling Life (which is functionally just defense) is never enough to actually make you feel like you can afford to take a hit - the expectation seems to be that leveling Attack, Life, and Magic is something you do purely to keep up with how badly every single thing in this game wants to stomp you into the ground and soak up a million hits and waste all your magic. You CAN skip out on leveling one stat to prioritize another, or even try to evade tough combat situations entirely, but if you aren't leveled enough and in the exact things the game expects you to be WHEN it expects you to be, you'll immediately bump into some new asshole who jumps out of nowhere and can cut you down in 2-3 hits. Leveling doesn't make you tangibly stronger, it merely keeps the game barely playable.

This actually ends up being the core problem I have with Zelda II's design, far more than just the combat being clunky and overly punishing or the levels being visually samey and super hard to navigate. In most Zelda games (and also in a lot of other RPGs!), you get a better sword or a new power or item, and it opens up exciting new options for both exploration and combat. In Zelda II, you level up or earn a new item/spell, it's useful for maybe 20-30 minutes, and then it's immediately nullified. Wow, you got the Fire spell! Now you can finally deal with Tektites and Basilisks (which are immune to all other attacks) on the way to the next area! Well, I hope you had fun with that, because Fire doesn't work on most things you run into afterwards.

Easily the biggest game-changer is when you unlock the Downward Thrust sword technique, and finally have another option for combat besides just crouch-hopping and poking monsters with a dull butter knife. It's satisfying to use, it looks cool (by this game's standards), and it even has some utility for crossing hazards or defending yourself against swooping enemies! Cool! Unfortunately, they don't let you play around with that for long either, before nearly every enemy you see starts rolling up with helmets or shells that make them immune to attacks from above, and you never really get anything like that again (the Upward Thrust exists later, but it's far more situational and frankly not very fun or intuitive to use). Rather than feeling like you're being given tools to overcome challenges and stay above the difficulty curve, it feels like you're constantly just slightly underequipped for everything (even if you grind to earn extra stat levels) and any edge you're given is swiftly taken away from you. (Except the Reflect spell, which is ALWAYS a banger after you get it because it makes your shield Actually Do Its Damn Job after nearly every enemy starts shooting projectiles you can't block. Good work, Reflect spell.)

I feel like I grew up hearing plenty of people talk about the overall difficulty of Zelda II, though most of the complaints about its puzzles were surface-level jabs about the short cryptic NPC text, and none of that prepared me for just how ridiculously obtuse its mandatory puzzles/secrets can be. I genuinely have no idea how anyone would EVER find the Life spell - pretty much your ONLY source of healing outside of towns, since there are no hearts to pick up in this game - without some kind of guide. I was FURIOUS when I finally looked up where to find that lady's mirror and discovered that you have to walk into one of the houses, go over to the table that looks EXACTLY like every other table in every other house in the entirety of Hyrule, crouch, and press B, and you'll just pull the mirror out of nowhere. This type of interaction does not exist ANYWHERE else in the game and there's no in-game hint to indicate that you should try this. Absolutely maddening.

This and its predecessor are both games that seemingly expect you to have the physical manual on hand to help you find secrets, but at least in the first game, the way the game was designed was consistent enough that you COULD feasibly find your way to the end of it without a guide. Bombable walls in dungeons always being located in the center, things like that. It had rules and it could generally be trusted to follow them. Zelda II, in comparison, has a final level (the Great Palace) in which there are numerous rooms that look IDENTICAL and if you make one wrong turn you can go through the entire [very difficult and dangerous] dungeon on a path parallel to the one you need to be on, only to hit a dead end and be able to see the spot you're supposed to be reaching on the other side of a wall. Except you would also never KNOW you need to get there, because it looks like another dead end full of monsters but there's actually a completely invisible hole somewhere in the floor over there that drops you into the hallway leading towards the final boss. Also there is no map. TLoZ had a map. I don't know why this game doesn't have a map. Possibly because if you try to look up maps online, most of the dungeons feature non-Euclidean spaces? Idk, even a Super Metroid-style grid map would've done wonders here.

The combat is... fine? I truly don't understand how anyone thinks it's GREAT though. Zelda II is kind of like a version of Castlevania where you don't have a whip and instead have to stab everything at extremely short range, and also sometimes enemies have shields so you have to crouch sometimes to stop them from blocking you. It feels tense and high-stakes but only because, as I mentioned earlier, you really cannot afford to take stray hits in this game. Most enemies chew through your health at an alarming rate, even with the Shield spell active, and there's almost no way to replenish it unless you use a Life spell (which costs a huge chunk of your magic, possibly softlocking you if you end up in a place that requires other spells to progress). I got better at the combat over the course of my playthrough, but I never felt like I got good at it - most of my victories against strong enemies felt like pure luck and there were rarely consistent strategies for success. All of this combined with the fact that Zelda II has limited lives (and I mean LIMITED - there are only six 1-UPs in the entire game, which can each only be collected once) and getting a Game Over anywhere outside of the final palace will send you all the way back to the starting area, and it makes for an incredibly stressful experience. Even making use of savestates to lighten the fear of death can only do so much to improve it.

Overall, I think that Zelda II is a game that has a lot of really promising ideas, but then just absolutely flops when it comes to the execution. I didn't have a better way of organizing these but here are a few examples of elements I DID particularly like, even if they didn't always stick the landing:

I like the idea of the RPG leveling system in theory, but wish it was more empowering in practice and actually let the player make meaningful choices instead of just being required to survive. Choosing to hold off on a Life upgrade and instead save up just a little longer to boost your Attack feels awesome, until you time one of your inputs wrong and get destroyed. In a game with better-tuned difficulty and combat, this system would be great!

I REALLY like that Zelda II introduced a magic system to the series! I think it's cool as hell to have Link learning and casting spells to protect himself, solve puzzles, and exploit enemy weaknesses, instead of relying purely on items. (It's honestly weird to think that a system I associate so strongly with classic Zelda gameplay has only actually showed up in 4 of the games?? I guess you could consider the runes/hand abilities in BotW/TotK to be kind of like modern spells, or the slowly-refilling energy gauge in ALBW to be the most recent iteration of a Magic Meter, but both are highly debatable. Anyways I just think they should let Link shapeshift into a fairy again, that was cool.) But most of the spells in this are fairly situational and your access to magic refills is so limited that you rarely have the freedom to experiment with the spells' secondary functions (hey did you know the Spell spell turns most enemy types into slimes? that's wild. I wish I'd known that sooner).

The overworld functioning like a traditional JRPG, with top-down exploration broken up by semi-random enemy encounters, was something I honestly didn't hate. It's a little weird for Zelda, sure, but I could see it working well to support other systems in a more polished game. Overworld encounters that switch you into a type of gameplay other than turn-based JRPG combat are something I've always been fascinated by!

Anyways, weird game! I'm glad I finally got closure so I could figure out how I personally feel about it, independent of whatever the random youtubers I watched as a teenager thought. And now I never have to play it again :)

[dropoutconfessions]

Everyone’s allowed to feel how they feel about K. You do not HAVE to like K. K is an imagination people and does not matter compared to reality people.

The actual problems that I think all this discourse is stemming from is a problem in not just fandom here but in fandom as a whole. It’s a problem of trends: Why is our attention so frequently held by the masculine and white? Why, when we expand the world and look into the interiority of side characters, is our focus so targeted on white men? Why are women so overlooked, why are people of color so often ignored?

This is a wider issue. A trickling down of real world racism affecting our little play spaces. And the problem is that an issue which appears in larger trends, an issue that is a general pattern of behavior, is not easy to fix. We can’t fix this by harassing individual people. We can’t fix this by ignoring it. We definitely can’t fix it by pretending like its a problem here and only here rather than everywhere.

I wouldn’t be so bitter about K and dislike of K if I wasn’t overly sensitive to the idea of POC and femme characters getting the short end of the stick. I wouldn’t be so apprehensive about SamEvan, which is a frankly adorable and lovely ship, if I could trust people in general to act right about black women. I wouldn’t be so mad when people call Jammer and his friends rude while ignoring anything Evan did if I hadn’t seen it as the start of a malicious pattern.

If I hadn’t been in fandoms where every single woman got called a Hideous Bitch and every single person of color was Secretly Evil then I wouldn’t even be posting this. If I hadn’t seen people latch onto men with three lines and refuse to even consider thinking about women with entire arcs, I wouldn’t care about the lack of K posts. It would just be opinion. But it’s not just opinion when it happens over and over again to the same kinds of characters every time.

I don’t think it’s that bad in the mismag fandom. I don’t WANT it to get that bad here. But I don’t know how else to stop it, so I type up little confessions, and I hope someone reads them and thinks about this shit a little bit before they post.

I think people should calm down and stop insulting each other. I think people should take a break, if they need one, from fandom. I think people should leave each other alone and quit passive aggressively throwing ‘shade’ at opinions they don’t like because there is NOTHING wrong with individual opinion. There IS something wrong with the pattern its a part of but you can’t blame a person for a pattern you see in them or else you’ll end up snapping at a monster that isn’t even there yet.

Most of what I want is for people to think about how they think. Nobody has to stop liking Evan (ofc) but it is and should be concerning that even in this relatively progressive space, I keep seeing the same patterns creep their subtle and insidious way into the things I love.

I think we can all do better than this. I think we can do much better. I think we deserve better, all of us, than all of this.

-

[mattsnight]

Toxic - Matt Sturniolo

Summary: toxic bf!Matt turns into abusive bf!Matt

Warnings: toxic bf, abusive bf, use of y/n, cursing, bleeding, hurting, pet names, angst. I’m putting a big warning on this one, because some people may get triggered. !!!!

You were setting the table up for dinner. The television is playing in the background. Some series is playing and it catches your attention. A man and a gorgeous woman are cuddled up against a tree, watching the evening slowly turn into the night. They seem to be very happy and it almost gets you jealous. You knew Matt wouldn’t ever do this with you. Maybe that was because he isn’t that much of a romantic. Or he just dislikes the thought of doing that with you.

You and Matt were toxic, both of you knew that, but you didn’t want to believe it. You loved each other and that was the problem. Fights have been caused from the two of you being too obsessive and jealous whenever the other hangs out with the opposite gender. Fights have been caused because the two of you are so fucking in love that it hurts. This relationship was messed up.

Now as you’re watching that couple sit against the tree, something just breaks in you. You let go of the plate you were holding. It falls to the ground with a loud bang before it shatters into pieces. You stare at the tv while a few tears fall down your face. Why did it bother you so much? Was it the desperation to get something you so badly want? Was it because you can’t have what they have? You look down at the plate, only now realizing what you’ve done.

You can hear Matt rush into the room, an angry expression on his face. He looks at you first. His eyes move over your skin, checking to see if you’re hurt. Then he looks down at the ground seeing the broken plate. Something deep inside of him snaps. You look up at him, fear in your eyes.

“What the fuck did you do?” He yells. The anger in his voice makes you flinch. You immediately fall to your knees, picking up the pieces of the plate. Matt lets out a frustrated sigh as he walks over to you. He doesn’t say anything. The room starts filling up with silence and his deep breaths. You grab a piece of glass, but it accidentally cuts into your skin, making you let out a loud gasp.

“Shit-“ you curse. The cut starts to bleed and you feel your whole body tremble in fear of Matt’s reaction.

“Christ Y/N stop being so sensitive. Its a simple small cut. It’s not like some bear cut you open.” Matt rolls his eyes as he picks up all the pieces together and throws them away. Then he sits down on a chair, looking at you. The blood is still falling down your arm. You stand up to grab a towel or something like that, but as you stand up you notice there’s a little bloodstain on the floor.

“Im sorry oh my god im so sorry.” You keep apologizing. Matt stands up, grabbing your arm and pulling you into a bathroom. He pulls your arm under the sink and turns it on. The water stings as it lands on the wound, making you wince. Matt doesn’t seem to care, nor does he even look at you. His grip on your arm tightens. Tears fall down your face and the pain gets too much to handle.

“Matt stop please. It hurts.” You cry out, trying to pull your arm away. You manage to pull it away, noticing the bleeding has stopped, but was that what really mattered right now? No. Matt had hurt you again. It was supposed to be a one time thing, not a two-time thing. The first time he accidentally hit you when he was drunk. You knew you should’ve left at that point, but you loved him so much you just couldn’t. But now he wasn’t drunk. He was fully sober. That fact hurt you even more.

“Look, im sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to hurt you. Just stop being dramatic and watch out with glass.” You nod, but you don’t believe him. You don’t believe his apologies. Why? Because last time you did it happened again. You walk past him to get out of the bathroom but you’re stopped by him grabbing your wrist. “Can we just.. stop with this.. y’know.. bullshit.”

“Bullshit? What bullshit? You being an abusive boyfriend bullshit? You hurting me while i was already hurt bullshit? Matt i love you, but i can’t live like this.” You manage to say through your tears.

“You know i didn’t mean it, doll.”

“Don’t call me that, Matt! Admit you messed up. This is wrong! This isn’t a normal relationship its fucking toxic!” You yell at him. He’s taken back by your tone and doesn’t speak back.

“Im done, this is over. You’ve hurt me two times now and i can’t take it anymore.” Your practically shaking now, your breathing not even closed to controlled. Matt notices and immediately pulls you in for a hug. You try to get away but his grip is too tight. “Hey hey hey, calm down. Deep breaths.” He rubs your back in slow gentle circles. He hates how he messed this up, how he made you feel. He hates himself at this point.

You manage to calm down after a while. “I just.. i just hate that i love you like this.” You say. He nods. “But i can’t and i won’t do this anymore. Im sorry.” And there it was, the final words that left your mouth. Suddenly he feels himself hitting reality. This is over. Everything you had is now in the past. Is it gonna make the both of you better people? I guess we’ll see. For now, both of you need time, a lot of time.

“You’re breaking up with me?” He pulls back from the hug to look at you. You nod your head slowly. This is supposed to feel like freedom, but instead it hurts. You think about all the reasons you’re leaving him, about the hurting and yelling. You know its wrong to stay. “I really hope you’ll get better, Matt.” You say, before walking out of his house, leaving him there all alone in the darkness.

————

(EXTRA)

Its been exactly 3 years since you’ve got out of that toxic relationship and you couldn’t be happier. A year after you broke up, you fell in love with a guy that you met at work and now you’re 6 months pregnant with a baby girl. Your life is perfect.

Since your boyfriends birthday was coming up, you decided to go to a cute cooking shop to look for some new supplies. You make your way over to the shop to be met with someone you thought you’d never see again. Your ex boyfriend Matt. It seems like he’s working at the shop, since he’s wearing the uniform. His mouth falls open as he realizes its you.

“Y/N…” he says as he stops with his work. “You.. you changed so much, you look so good.” He smiles as he walks around the counter to stand in front of you. Then he looks down at your belly to notice you’re pregnant. You can hear him swallow. “You’re pregnant, thats.. amazing!” He looks up at you again, smiling. You’re still taken back by the fact he’s actually in front of you. He looks different and healthy.

“Yeah.. 6 months now. How are you doing?”

He swallows again. “I’ve been in therapy for a few months now.” He starts. “Y’know.. trying to get back to a normal life style.” You can’t help but smile. You’re happy for him he’s taking care of his problems.

“Do you want me to help you get the right supplies?” He asks, his voice gentle. You nod, hoping to learn more about whats going on in his life right now. And in all honesty, it was great seeing him again.

I love this sm🥹

[endursent]

- God Shattering Star

【 content; morax | rex lapis x reader , slow burn , mutual pining , multi-chapter , archon war period , afab!reader 】

【 note; as i'm taking more classes than usual for this semester i won't be able to told the 10-day schedule (as if i ever posted on time lmao) so i'm not going to adhere to that. i'll still be consistently writing, but looking at my assignment/exam schedule, i won't be able to hold a consistent-day schedule as the weeks of busywork are varying. but i'm excited for act two eheh.... happy end of act one! | read on ao3 】

【 word count; 5.286 | previous chapter - next chapter | masterlist 】

- Chapter 11 - Parching to Dust

Treading through the snowstorm is no easy feat, your feet are ice cold and hauling your body forwards is a feat of its own. You walk far behind many of the others in the long line towards the slanted hillside that leads underneath the cliff, Moon Carver is only a few steps behind you.

  You didn’t find any ink, nor did you find any parchment to bring with you. All you have are the clothes on your back and the Luo Pan tucked in your robe… you kind of feel bad for your missing noodles, you didn’t get a chance to taste them. 

  A sharp gust of wind blows directly towards you, and you have to turn your face away and into the fur of your robe to be able to catch your breath, the snow reaches up to your knees as you try to tread into footsteps someone else had made already and you’re so damn cold. 

  A small slope faces your gaze and you bend your knees slightly to not slip and slide down into the group before you, and just as you had made a few steps down—it’s there again, that brain-throbbing tug. You shake your head, but it just makes it worse.

  You can see where people are gathering in the safe area, curtains and covering have already been set up—this was an emergency spot that was planned for for a while. Your steps halt halfway down the slope and Moon Carver nearly walks into your back. “Why are you stopping?” he grumbles, he dislikes this weather as much as everyone else… if more, human skin sucks at retaining heat outside of its organs—in his sophisticated, furred opinion.

  “I want to see something,” you say and start to trek up again. If you are to set wards or a barrier of some sort to protect against falling essence—you certainly don’t want anyone to suffer from the heavy afflictions that struck the soldiers at the western border… and more importantly, you are on a blind mission to make up for what you did wrong, you’re ready to do anything to try and rectify it.

  None of those people know what you did, none of them know you’re trying to set up a safe zone for them—but it doesn’t matter, it’s not for them, not truly. It’s for yourself, a selfish need to fill the hole in your stomach that is so damn cold, so cold in a way even these winds and the cold flakes against your neck can’t stand up to.

  Moon Carver watches as you practically climb back up, the snow so deep you’re almost using your hands to push snow away to make the climb easier. He sighs and turns to continue down the slope.

  You stand by the cliffside and take a look around… but there’s not much to see, the brush of harsh winds hit your back and you wobble slightly, it carries snow in its direction and it mostly obscures your surroundings. You’re sure there’s many mountains around where you are, some likely larger than what you’re standing on—both beautiful and mighty.

  But you can’t see any of them, all you see is white and flashes above your head. Morax’s golden glow moves far more aggressively than before, when you saw the standoff first—he’s no longer waiting for an opening and allowing the winds and snow to obscure his vision.

  But Mei Lan is fast, the white-blue glow of her form dashes away every time he advances, she ducks and weaves like a fly. 

  You lower yourself down, crouching in the snow as your knees sink into it. Your hands are cold, but you ignore the dull sting that goes through them with every movement and swipe, flexing and making a claw of your fingers to try and keep some movement to them so they don’t get frozen still—you hope, at least… you’re not too experienced with such extreme cold.

  You have no ink, not parchment to stick to the ground. Perhaps you can use just a little bit of your spiritual energy to set a simple barrier over the safe zone—if only to guard against the initial drop of essence.

  Grass and stone greet your eyes beneath powdered snow, cold and frozen in time. You set your palm against the ground and close your eyes.

  It’s terribly difficult to concentrate with the hissing song of the wind rushing past your ears, small flakes of snow settle on your eyelashes and shoulders as you try to from some semblance of a sigil into the stone… you feel your energy tickle at your elbow and wrist before it spreads from your palm into a warm sign in the ground.

  Letting out a breath, you feel that you need to inhale a longer one to follow. You open your eyes and the ground is partially covered with snow again, but a faint silver sigil has formed over the pale grass.

  If you can just put a few of those around…

  You stood and began to wade through the snow again, when the tug of your mind seemed to pull down. Your steps halt and you move your legs slightly… below you? This headache is annoying, but it’s not too dissimilar to how you can pinpoint miasma within a body—it never hurts, and usually you just use your hands. 

  You kneel down again and swipe as much snow away as you can, and instead of stone and grass… you see ice. Not too unsurprising, but it’s far more blue than it should be—just how long has there been snow and frost atop these mountains? 

  With more precise wipes of your gloved hand, you squint as darker streaks reveal themselves to you. They’re too practiced to just be an air pocket beneath the ice, or a depth difference. You use your teeth to peel your glove away to reveal your bare right hand and touch your fingertips to the streaks. 

  They’re elevated from the ice, as if sharp winds had cut around the streaks and elevated them. You frown slightly as you trace the line, there’s a strange energy within them… not the same as the foul energies released by the death of gods, but very similar in emotion.

  Anger. Resentment. 

  You will need to see more of these streaks if you’re to decipher what they are.

  First, you need to complete the setup for this barrier… you can kind of see a good area reach for it—if you set down three atop the cliff and then two on the ground by the alcove, then a ward should form around it at the slightest hint of essence dropping from the skies. The snow almost reaches your waist at one point, and you have to kick and swipe like an idiot to get enough out of the way for you to dig to the ground. 

  None of the area left of the streak has more—neither is it particularly wide, only about the same as your forearm. 

  It takes a lot of energy to leave sigils like this behind, and by the third sigil furthest from the hillside leading down, sweat is forming on your forehead. You haven’t exactly eaten in a while—and using energy like this requires a lot of consumed sustenance in return. 

  You set the final seal down and your palm feels like it might start to freeze over if you don’t cover it, the icy cold ground zapping all warmth from your body through the slightest touch of skin. The winds are getting faster and you have to hold your robes close to retain some heat.

  But before you can continue to crawl around and dig snow out of the way like a dog, you hear your name called from far behind you. Moon Carver stands by the cliffside where the slope lowers beneath it. The wind is too loud to hear anything specific that he’s trying to shout in your direction, so you stand and wade your way towards him—it takes a good three minutes to get through all of it and nearly every step you leave behind fills up immediately afterwards. “What is it?”

  “They’re getting too close, you need to stay under the shelter if you don’t want to get blown away,” he says—and as if on queue to his warning, light flashes overhead. You both look up and see a bright line of every fly over the skies and impact something behind the blanket of snow obscuring your field of view of the surrounding terrain. 

  The impact causes a loud rumble to sound from the direction, but thankfully nothing beneath your feet shakes. You share a look with Moon Carver and nod, following him down under the cliffside.

  “There were weird signs in the ground,” you mention as you open the flaps to the small shelter. Some fires have been lit to bring some warmth, the heavy cloths containing it inside as the wind blows from behind the cliff and mercifully shields the small alcove. 

  Moon Carver tied the flaps shut behind you. “Signs?” 

  “Long streaks, as if trailing towards something,” you put your glove back on your hand, it’s a bit tricky now that it’s rather wet and nearly frozen over. “I’m not sure, but I want to get a better look…” it sounds like the winds have gotten stronger, you might have to wait it out.

  The adeptus next to you sets his hand closer to a nearby fire, he doesn’t say anything for a moment before letting out a soft hum. “Perhaps it will reveal a weakness.”

  You weren’t sure how to respond to his musing, what kind of weakness would it be? you’ve primarily seen the god of “sharp winds and piss cold weather” in the skies, what could possibly help her on the ground? You’re not particularly versed in… the abilities of gods, or their sources of power. Your contact with them is beyond death, where they poison the living.

  The little safe zone beneath the cliffside was very cramped, carpets had been laid out so that no one was sitting on cold snow or stone and the fires lit were protected inside braziers made of bronze, allowing flickers of warm flames through slits but kept it safe from the chilling breeze.

  You sit down close by one of the braziers, tugging your knees up and folding the robe behind your legs so that there’s no open slit for the wind to slip in. A shiver tingles your shoulders and travels down your spine, spreading along your limbs and torso as you peel your gloves off against to feebly blow at your cold fingers—your left hand is still being wrapped in bandages that provide a small additional layer, the cloth wrapped laxly around your fingers is damp as well and you’re tempted to peel it off… but as you move to do so, you hesitate.

  It’s not very… polite, to expose something so unsightly in a dense crowd like this. You can handle the chill for a while. 

  The storm doesn’t calm for a long time—long enough that you found yourself dozing off. It’s barely warm enough being two people away from the heaters… but you sit and endure, waiting around… twiddling your (ice cold) thumbs…

  Argh! You can’t do it anymore!

  Standing to your feet—though careful to not knock anyone over—you stride over to the tent flaps and untie them to leave, the same Millelith soldier that had dragged you along earlier stands there and grabs one flap before it can fly from your hand, a sharp gust of cold wind forcing its way into the shelter. “Where are you going??” he looks at you as if you’re a madwoman, and perhaps in this moment it’s such a very crazy thing to assume. 

  Perhaps you are, there’s been something prickling in the back of your brain for a while now, demanding you tread forward and don’t stop—that you do something. 

  “Out,” you don’t give him another glance and step outside into the wind—immediately your breath is stuck in your throat and you press your lips together. The wind has gotten stronger, but so has your will to do something. You can’t continue sitting around while Morax fights overhead—it’s none of your business, technically. You don’t exactly have many stones on the board when it comes to territory disputes between gods and demons, but you do have a strong sense of responsibility that’s been beaten into the ground recently.

  And now you feel that you must uplift that poor sack and fill it with something else.

  So you climb up the slope that reaches around the cliffside, you grab fistula of snow to try and shove it out of the way and make it easier for your legs to climb—it’s not too steep, perhaps a twenty degree incline at best… but with the wind in your face and snow settling in your sleeves and collar, it’s far more difficult than just climbing a normal grass hill.

  With a heaved breath, you make it back up to where you were before, your sigil is still in the ground and the darkened streaks have been covered by snow again. 

  You look up to the skies and squint, you don’t see them… no matter if you turned your eyes in any direction—you could hear the sound of grinding steel and rock, of heavy thuds and sharp energies cutting through the air, but you could not see them.

  Which is far worse, in your opinion, than seeing them close by—because they could be in any direction and potentially not know you’re there. 

  After having warmed a little inside the shelter, you feel better swiping away so much snow. The more you reveal, the more the streaks begin to shape something—only a few metres away from where you were, you found another long streak identical to the other one.

  This was placed here, cut deliberately into shapes… but for what? They’re angled slightly towards each other… as if they connect further away.

  You sure hope this discovery is useful to your current situation, and you’re not just chasing ancient artefacts that have nothing to do with the—

  The thoughts surging through your head are cut short as the ground beneath your feet trembles. You quickly duck down into a crouching position and try to grab onto whatever you can… which is nothing, there is only loose snow around you.

  Thankfully the rumble doesn’t last for long, neither does it knock you over… but it came from the mountains around you. The earthquakes have been originating from here, you can feel the deep tremble from beneath the stone—as if the mountain itself is shuddering. You quickly stand again and hurriedly begin to swipe at the ground, revealing the length of the markings—you follow them several metres until you can’t see the cliffside behind you anymore, you find two more, they’re all leading in the same direction, pointing closer to each other the further you get.

  A choked sound of surprise leaves your lips and you fall backwards into the snow as something large and heavy drops into the ground to your left—a massive and sharp pillar of stone is embedded in the ground mere three feet away from you, your heart races as you look to the skies. They’re directly above you.

  The winds are lesser under them and the stone pillar crumbles into dust, for a moment it almost seems as if you are in a safe pocket—before the bright star in the sky descends and approaches at rapid, very concerning speeds. You scramble backwards a bit and stand to your feet as sharp winds follow behind him and shape into sharp spikes dense with frost—until they appear as long icicles. 

  Unsure what to do, with several things coming into your direction, you simply turn and run—your instincts taking over as tension and fear grasps your spine like the ice heading your way. But before you can fully stand to your feet, arms wrap around your torso and you’re hoisted up into the air. 

  The ground disappears below your feet and you yelp in alarm, throwing your arms around Morax’s shoulders and holding on for dear life causes the god of geo to grunt at the tight hold, but doesn’t say anything. 

  Your feet touch ground again behind a mountain you had no idea was there, a small alcove high atop the peaks where the air is thin—but where the winds are less as well. You exhale in relief, and take a deep breath… and realise you’re still clinging onto Morax’s torso as if you were attached to him.

  His chest heaves slightly against yours and you quickly let go, taking a step back—but there’s little room in this little alcove and your back hits the cold stone wall. “Y-you—” you weren’t sure what to say. You’re caught again where you shouldn’t be… to be fair, he didn’t particularly tell you not to stand out there like an idiot.

  But that’s usually left unsaid and rather implied. 

  “There’s sigils,” you blurt out as he opens his mouth to speak. As soon as you do, Morax’s lips close together again—his hair is a mess, hood dropped down to his shoulders and frost forming on the edges of his cloak. He must be cold. “In the ground, I don’t know what they’re for—but they look like they form something,” you wave your hands vaguely as you explain it. 

  “Sigils?” Morax’s eyes move to the direction he had taken you from and his eyebrows furrow. His mind seems to turn as if he’s thinking deeply. “Stay here.”

  “Here?!” you nearly exclaim. Surely he’s not going to leave you at a mountaintop you can barely breathe at—what if something happens and he won’t even be able to fetch you?

  “The wind is lesser here, if I take you to the others she will find them,” he tries to sound assuring, but you’re not sure he can tell how thin the air is up here. 

  “Let me show you,” you take his arm and Morax blinks twice in place once at the contact, golden eyes flickering down before raising again to your face. “Maybe it can be of use, maybe it can weaken her!”

  “Perhaps…” he doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but you need to try everything you can to get him to take you down again. You still hold onto his arm and your palm, even through your gloves and his clothes, feels the warmth of his skin beneath it. Despite the frost on his clothes and the snow dusting atop his hair, his body temperature is high. 

  Morax considers you for a moment, eyelids narrowing slightly until he lets out a breath. “You have… a talent—” your eyebrows shoot up and you tilt your head back a little. “—for finding trouble—” your eyebrows drop down again. “—yet you have also proven yourself in other matters.”

  It doesn’t feel quite as nice to hear the last part with that first sentence there, but you suppose he has the right of it. You understand what he’s saying, even if he has not fully completed it—you are not supposed to be here, and yet you are, so you have to take forth what makes you useful and use it.

  “Then let me help, I can read the sigils if we can reveal them better,” your voice is stronger than your spine, but you put all the courage you can muster in your body towards your mouth. “Don’t leave me behind.”

  Something in his firm gaze changes, but you can’t tell what. “Very well,” he nearly immediately accepts. Surprise colours your expression at the easy acceptance, but you have no time to respond to him before his hand takes yours that still holds onto him, and tugs you closer. Morax’s arm encircles your waist again—and suddenly you’re airborne without a single warning. 

  A near silent sound of surprise leaves you once stable ground disconnected with the soles of your shoes and you grasp his robe so tightly you worry in the back of your mind that you might rip it off—at least he doesn’t seem bothered by the cold. Chill winds whip past your face and you have to close your eyes as they tear up, the onslaught of gusts and snow making them sting as Morax descends with you in his arms towards where you had left before. 

  Mei Lan is nowhere to be seen, but you hear distant howling that could be either wind or screams. 

  Your feet finally touch snow again and you immediately drop to your knees to brush the fresh powder away from the streaks in the ground. Your heart thrums in your chest as Morax stands above you, his head raised to watch the skies and glowing eyes flickering back and forth to try and assess where the threat might be. 

  “Here,” you pant, not aware of your own breath quickening. You trace the dark streaks with your fingers, eyes locked on the shimmer of the ice below them. “they’re not natural formations, like wind cut around the ice—but it’s so precise…” a frown tugs at your lips, the top of the streaks has lines in it… like a script. “It almost feels like…”

  A deafening crack interrupts your words, the sound flashing through your brain as your head snaps upwards—a spear of ice larger than you’ve ever seen flies barely past your positions and crashes into a mountainside above you. The ice shatters and thuds against the hill of the mountain… directly above your heads. 

  Morax’s arm shoots out and a barrier of gold materialises above the two of you—the ice thuds heavy against the barrier and Morax steps forward. “Move,” he commands, and you immediately listen. 

  Scrambling to your feet—slipping a bit but managing to stand upright, you move behind him as he steps forward. His eyes flick between areas of heightened vantage, between thicker curtains of snow as well as thinner… Morax’s eyes lower to the ground where you had revealed the elevated streak and his eyes narrow—but there’s no time to inspect them further. 

  A white and blue blur streaks across the sky and Mei Lan’s voice carries on the howling wind outside the heavy shield encircling you like a bubble. 

  “Leave this place! It is a barren wasteland!” her words are ones of warning, yet the snarl of her face begets a fury you’ve never seen before. She is dressed in white silken robes far longer than her feet reach, making her appear twice her own length. The ribbons and flowing material off the old-style garment  flutter erratically with the sharp winds and her dark hair is unrestrained. 

  The storm beyond the shield intensifies as she clasps her hands together, the long sleeves on her robe twirling until they almost appear to have tied a knot together. “Will you not leave—I will have to depart your souls from this plane!” 

  That sounds like she’s about to conjure something big. You glance nervously at Morax and his gaze is fixed on the woman in the skies. “Hide as soon as I release the barrier.”

  “Hide? Where?” you look around quickly, but there’s nothing but snow around you—there’s not even a big rock!

  You don’t receive an answer as the golden shield fades into shimmering dust and Morax bends his knees—and before you can protest he launches himself skyward once more. You click your tongue and turn to run, at least you can create a distance, perhaps Mei Lan will be too busy to consider you… you hope she hasn’t been considering your presence at all. 

  Mei Lan ducks and weaves past Morax’s attacks—until he finally gets into melee with a sharp strike of his polearm, the glowing blade’s edge just barely cuts her cheek and she shrieks in alarm. You lose your footing as the ground shakes with her scream and you fall into the soft snow, getting a mouthful of cold powder before you can turn to see that Morax has finally closed in and chases her through the skies. 

  He’s relentless, she erratically tries to escape the field of reach of his spear, but as soon as the storm does not hide her from his sight and the winds do not blow his strikes away—he is on her like a hunting dragon. “You oaf!! Do you not understand?!” a spike of ice materialises as an extension of her arm, engulfing her limb. “You should not be here! No one should!”

  There is no response to her cries, she swings uselessly, but the counterstrike of the firm pole of his spear shatters any and all ice she tries to form. As soon as he has you within arms length—it’s over. 

  The lights in the sky fly like twin shooting stars, golden and blue as you finally get to your feet again and rush towards the streaks in the ground. It takes you a moment to remember which way they were leading, but as soon as you do—you sprint as fast as you can. It looks like a seal, but if it is, then there must be sigils at every interval where the streaks connect that describe its function. 

  Your lungs burn as you wade through uncovered snow, the ground beneath you rumbles softly with every strike that just barely doesn’t tear her skin apart and split her bones. It dips, and suddenly your shoes slide beneath you—the hill tilts downwards and you lose your balance with another shake of the earth, rolling down the rest that is thankfully just a few feet… or two full rolls, as you counted with a mouthful of snow. 

  Dusting snow off your shoulders and head, you swipe at the cold powder beneath you, frantically pushing it away and revealing every curve, every stroke. Your eyes widen as the character is revealed and the streaks that cut through it, continuing further along the floor… you remember this character—it was the second one in the poem sung by the performer in the tea house.

  A tale of a young cultivator, winds and cold slopes.

  You turn left and find the streak next to it, it cuts through another character, the first one in the poem. The threads connect further away from you where the centre of the seal must be. 

  The winds in the skies sharpen, the gusts quicken and there’s no rhyme or rhythm to them anymore—Mei Lan is desperate to gain distance and better ground. Morax notices her frantic movements and continues herding her away from the peaks she could hide behind towards the open sky. She raises her arms, wind swirling around her long sleeves and gathers in thick elemental energy—and he takes the opening. 

  His spear runs through her, blood splatters across the white robe and the ribbons stiffen—as if part of her body. The drops freeze in the air and fall to the ground as pearls, dotted in the snow. 

  The sound that leaves her body shakes the earth, the scream makes even Morax’s ears sting as he tears his weapon from her body and provides safe distance for himself—the attack shouldn’t be enough to kill her, but many gods would tuck tail and flee at a wound like this.

  But she doesn’t. 

  The whirling wind leaves the ground, it retreats towards Mei Lan’s body and gathers within her until the air is completely still. She clutches the wound and suddenly her eyes dart downwards. “The seal—I must—!”

  Below them, the ground lights up. A sharp and glowing blue ignites beneath the snow and evaporates all cool powder that lays atop its streaks. Morax understands the symbol of the seal before it begins to unravel… he has laid forth this seal many times—though his own is more complicated, the foundation is the same. 

  Something—or someone, is sealed beneath the mountain range. 

  His eyes dart to where he left you behind but finds the shape of your coat nowhere. Where are you? 

  Before he can scan for you further, the winds sucked into Mei Lan burst forth from her—sending Morax flying away with a stronger gust than she has released in even the earlier days he fought her this week. He just barely catches himself after many metres and immediately darts down to the earth—the seal is moments from releasing and he must find you before it does. 

  He searches near frantically, until he finally hears you shouting his name from afar. “Morax…!” he just barely sees the top of your head above some snow as you try to climb up the steep hill you slid down. The seal is directly below your feet—if whatever is contained beneath it bursts forth, you will be shattered among the ice. 

  The ground shakes violently and you lose your grip, your shoes slip and you slide back down right where you started, breaths coming in quickly as the streaks of the seal begin to shatter and crack—a deafening sound coming from beneath as the prisoner beneath the ice awakens. It’s not a roar you would expect a beast or demon to make, nor is it human. 

  You flinch back as Mei Lan suddenly appears by the sigil, her blood drips down in heavy splashes and the ground shudders again. “Stay yourself! You will not be released to this world again!” her hands press onto the seal and for a brief moment, you thought she might have reinforced it at least a little—but the light engulfing the streaks brightens. 

  The ground around the seal is a lid of ice, sitting atop something boiling beneath—simmering for release. The flat and blue floor cracks as something large opens beneath your feet. A glowing eye, red and craving release. 

  A large crack forms between your feet, but before you can take a step back—you’re ripped up into the air in the same moment that the floor cracks open beneath you and another, far louder and more deafening roar shatters the mountaintop. The shaking of the mountain from above does not look like an earthquake anymore. 

  It’s shifting, shaking and shuddering—movement, something is pushing its way through the ice, pushing through bedrock and stone. The blinding glow emanating from the streaks launches into the skies, creating walls of light until they reach the centre… and the light emitting from Mei Lan’s body coalesces into a form so vast and wide that it makes her look like a spark next to a bonfire. 

  The malevolence, the fury and the resentment that releases through the seal is crushing—you feel bile building in your throat as Morax tightens his hold on your waist. Your head pounds and you feel as if it will break you apart. 

  The head of a serpent rises from the depths, body white as snow and eyes red as demonic fire. The shriek that parts its mouth shakes the mountains so terribly that snow trembles away—avalanches roll down the sides of them and crush against cliff sides. “W-what is that?” you barely croak out. Just the head of the snake is as large as the palaces in the capital. 

  “...” Morax doesn’t reply, his gaze fixed on the creature as it lowers. Its body slams against the flat mountain and its body muscles twitch and move—as if it were moving for the first time in a long time, before it slithers between two high peaks and into the depths of the mountain range. It takes several minutes for its entire body to leave the unsealed hole, tail leaving behind a deep streak in the snow. 

  Something terrible just escaped the earth, and you can feel the malevolence it’s mere presence left behind.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

I don’t think Jason has ever hated Tim

I recently revived my Jason Todd hyperfixation from its torpor and realized I had... Means and Ways of reading as many comics as I want for free, so I made the transition from Fanon Only to having read Lost Days, Under the Red Hood, Teen Titans #29 (where Jason fights and beats the tar out of Tim), Hush, Red Hood and the Outlaws (the majority of both runs), Red Robin: The Grail, Batman and Robin: Streets Run Red, Green Arrow #70 - #73 (where Jason kidnaps Mia), Battle for the Cowl, and a smattering of other bits and bobs, all within the last month.

I have come to the conclusion that the idea that Jason hated Tim before slowly learning to be okay with him is completely backwards.

Jason starts respecting Tim as a fellow combatant after basically their first meeting, and was sympathizing with him even before. Fandom talks a lot about how Jason repeatedly tried to kill Tim, but I think there’s a good argument to be made that actually Jason has never tried to kill Tim, and there’s a better argument that Jason has never tried to hurt Tim out of a dislike for him.

Tim is the one who feels viciously betrayed by Jason, hates his guts, and depending on if you blend in the New 52 either learns to begrudgingly like him or just stays hatin.

Obviously I need some proof here, since this goes completely against the grain of every relationship interpretation I’ve ever seen for them, so approximately seven miles of character analysis under the cut lmao

I’m gonna try to go in chronological order of the characters’ history here, which means we’re starting with Lost Days, and Jason’s first reaction to finding out there’s a new Robin:

This does not look like anger to me.

Lost Days is only six issues long, and this is the entirety of the pages devoted to Jason’s feelings on Tim. Jason succeeds in a plan that would have almost certainly killed Batman if Jason had gone through with it. Jason undeniably has Joker dead to rights at one point, but lets him go. Jason at no point in this story attempts to harm Tim at all.

Now for Hush.

Context for fanon only folks: this is where the “throat slitting” bit happens.

Context for a lot of confusion: I don’t know if Jason is the one who holds Tim hostage or not.

In the original Hush plot line this is only Clayface; Jason isn’t here at all. It was later retconned in Under the Red Hood that Jason was actually in this fight for... some amount of time. It’s highly unclear to me when they swap out. Probably because originally, they didn’t swap out. Oh well! In either case, it’s now canon that Jason coached Clayface on his acting, so for the purposes of this essay, Imma hold Jason responsible for the throat damages and the words said regardless of who did what!

Right off the bat: this is a hostage taking, not a murder. Yes, Clayson Jayface does nick Tim’s neck and absolutely makes the threat of murdering him to Batman, but it’s clearly a threat. Like, look at this panel:

He is talking a lot. This isn’t an attempt to kill Tim, it’s an attempt to screw with Batman. No matter who this is, they have every reason to expect that Batman will stop them before they do any permanent damage. Can you see that little, blurry, half-hidden line of red? Lets look at what the damage was later on:

The bleeding was stopped by a bit of cloth, some pressure, and he’ll need stitches eventually, but they can clearly wait, and Tim doesn’t seem alarmed. That’s enough to scar, and enough that it is perfectly reasonable for Tim to assume that he would have died if he hadn’t been rescued.

However, Jason being deeply protective of kids is a reasonably consistent character trait. “You really think I’m gonna bring the pain to a ten year old?” Even at Jason’s most villainous, he is willing to put himself in danger in order to protect his own sidekick Scarlet. I think it would be very out of character for him to have gone through with it. Combined with Jason’s later actions and the general fact that a hostage is pretty useless dead, I come to the conclusion that Jason was bluffing.

It is ambiguous though, and I admit that this is probably the weakest link in the “Jason never tried to kill him” chain.

But enough of that, was he angry with him? Is the hate there?

I argue no, and that really there’s no emotional investment in Tim at all. In terms of hard numbers the pages Jalay Toddface spends holding Tim hostage is 3 and the number he spends fighting Batman is 13 and the number of times he even so much as LOOKS at Tim is ZERO, like actually, literally ZERO TIMES. He does not spare poor Timmy a SINGLE GLANCE.

Now make a special note here because those three pages of no eye contact from someone who might not even be Jason are the ONLY times that Tim is called Pretender or Imposter.

I’m relying on this research done by Kiragecko: https://kiragecko.tumblr.com/post/128411908944/bat-sibling-interaction It only goes up to Battle for the Cowl, (as does this essay it turns out, I just don’t know how to bridge between that and the New 52) so it isn’t every interaction ever, but it’s still excellent research, go leave a like.

According to them: “Comments: Tim thinks about Jason a lot while he’s first training. He imagines the former Robins giving him pep talks, and uses them to fight off fear gas. When Jason comes back, though, Tim’s really nasty, especially in his head. Jason, however, is somewhat respectful. He usually calls Tim ‘Tim’, and seems to kind of like him. ‘Pretender’ and ‘Imposter’ are things that CLAYFACE said, not Jason.“

How many times are those said? Once. Each. That’s it. As a comment under the Jason and Tim post done by Kiragecko points out, “Replacement” doesn’t even get used.

Under the Red Hood is basically THE Jason Todd comic. To my memory he doesn’t interact with Tim in it. However, it does contain that aforementioned reconning! So we get to see his reasoning during this encounter.

And it very very clearly isn’t at all about Tim.

Moving on to Titans Tower, which is indisputably focused on Tim: When he fights Tim, he is absolutely violent and over the line, but he’s NOT out of his head. Jason is clearly very lucid and careful about what he’s doing.

Is he angry? Of course! He’s angry at the Titans who in his mind cared about him way less than their other members, and accepted a replacement robin as though his life, his whole flesh and blood self, was something that could be so easily forgotten and swapped out.

But I think it would be a mistake to assume that Jason’s at all mad that he isn’t Robin anymore.

A very interesting direct parallel to this fight is when Jason kidnaps Mia, Green Arrow’s sidekick Speedy, fights her, appeals to their commonalities and encourages her to solve crime his way rather than Green Arrow’s way.

In both scenarios Jason engineers a way to isolate a sidekick and attempts to teach them something through combat. He makes a direct appeal to them against their mentors, and seems genuine about what he’s saying. He also lets both of them live, and with Mia is honestly pretty damned polite about it all. At least, as polite as a guy can be about kidnapping you and encouraging you to try to kill him in your high school gym that he definitely should not know about.

The plain fact of the matter is that Jason knocked Tim out, had time to paint his whole ass name way up high on a wall, and did not kill him. This is the same Jason who just prior to that took out all of Tim’s allies non-lethally. The same Jason who kept Mia’s protector’s busy non-lethally. The same Jason who cuts Mia free and gives her weapons back and starts slow in their fighting to make sure he doesn’t hurt her too badly. The same Jason who seems to feel very strongly that killing, trafficking, or selling drugs to kids is an unforgivable offense and very clearly sees Tim as a kid.

Quite frankly, this reads not like a murder, and not like a jealous beatdown, but an attempt to convince Tim that he’s going to get himself killed and needs to get out while he still can. In Jason’s mind before they meet, Tim is purely A Robin, a kid who deserves better than to be put into danger against the same monsters over and over again until he finally slips up and dies.

Is this a hairbrained and back asswards way of doing that? Yes! But it does track for someone who tries to do all of his talking through his actions, which do speak louder than words, but unfortunately C-4 loudness is not actually a significant boon to nuanced communication.

If you want to put it in a less charitable way (and maybe we should, this is a bonkers asshole move on Jason’s part no matter how you slice it) then we can say Jason is testing Tim, trying to see if this one has what it takes to be better than he was, to survive where he couldn’t. Personally I think it’s a mix of both, and for this end of that emotional mess: Tim passes the test.

Jason leaves while talking about Tim in present tense, showing that he has every expectation of Tim being alive, and praises him in the process:

Did you know that the fun panel of Tim kicking Jason in the nuts is actually from the same comic run, about twenty or so issues later?

Did you know that the argument they were having starts with Dick and Tim wrestling with Jason and accusing him of a murder he did not commit, and in fact tried to save the victim from?

Did I mention yet that the death in question was of Duela Dent, aka the JOKER’S DAUGHTER, whom Jason caught attempting to hold a young woman hostage for ransom? And that Jason repeatedly shot her getaway balloon instead of her and then tried to save her life immediately afterwards despite the fact that she was going to let the hostage plummet to their death? And it is implied that part of the reason he’s so easy on her is because of “Once a Titan always a Titan” loyalty, with this being our first clue that Jason isn’t the one shooting at her anymore?

Did I also mention that he comes to her funeral in part to be around Donna (the starry leotard lady whose statue he smashed) because it’s nice to be around people who understand being displaced by their own death? And that the one who sticks up for him in this scene is Donna?

At risk of negating my own thesus here, I’d say it’s reasonable to think that maybe Jason feels rage-hate for Tim in this “kicked in the dick while Dick grins smugly” moment.

Lets go now to Robin #177 at the tail end of the 1993 to 2003 run - Bruce has “died” and Tim hasn’t yet gone on his epic quest to find him. Tim finds Jason unifying street gangs with the intent to bring them under control and solve the current crisis. He appeals to Tim for help with this, in fact he comes off as almost puppy dog eager to work with him, and seems really sad when he says fuck no.

This is one of the first fights in which Tim really holds his own against Jason, and I am very proud of him, yes :3

This gets Jason arrested. Then Tim actually goes through with a heavily modified, less violent version of Jason’s plan that Jason didn’t think could work. A few issues later, when Tim decides that he’s going to try to honor what Bruce would have wanted by springing Jason out of jail, Jason makes note of that.

Jason is pretty damned civil at their next meeting, even though Tim makes it pretty damned clear he doesn’t want him around.

And now... we have to talk about Battle for the Cowl.

I’ve seen it described as a masterclass in how NOT to write Jason Todd, due to it portraying him as being an absolutely off his rocker anger murder violence man. I am inclined to agree.

In this three issue comic Jason Todd has been dRiVeN mAd (in the most bullshit comic sense of that word) by Bruce’s will... telling him to go to therapy. Yeah. So uh, he dons a Batman suit to shoot people in AND pretends to be Black Mask so he can enslave a bunch of villains Amanda Waller style, and like it gets weird from there. It is an extremely jarring transition from that last scene to GUNS BAT HATE MAN.

He still does not hate Tim in it. I really, seriously thought I was going to have to make a lot of excuses for this portion but then the more I read of it the more vindicated I was cause let me repeat: One of the most unhinged with Bat hate and crazy juice versions of Jason ever put to print does not hate Tim at all.

Hell, he likes Tim! He compliments him!

And on top of that, even though he is MUCH more lethal against his fellow robins when they attack him - Jason straight up shoots a ten year old Damian in the chest. It’s fucked. - There is still evidence to suggest that Jason deliberately didn’t kill Tim when he had ample opportunity.

Jason first of all never hunts Tim down. I’ve heard Battle for the Cowl described as Jason tracking Tim down or kidnapping him or going after him to force him to Be His Robin, but that’s just not how it goes.

Instead he waits for Tim to come find his Batcave, disorients him, and goes for a ton of surface cuts. He only actually goes for a real body blow after Tim picks up a crowbar and beats Jason across the face with it a few times.

(Again, proud of you Timmy)

After the stabbing, Jason doesn’t just leave Tim there; this isn’t a matter of hurrying on before he could check. He’s seen dragging Tim off. When Nightwing later comes to rescue him, Dick is downright certain Jason is lying to him about Tim being dead because Jason is refusing to show him the body and Dick figures it’s because he knows there’s no body to show (if in part because he can’t let himself believe Tim is dead without hard proof).

Tim himself wonders about this, noting that the batterang was rusted and shattered on his armor.

Sure, Tim used playing possum to make his pulse slow to a near stop for a while, maybe that fooled Jason, but keep in mind that BRUCE taught Tim that skill, and if there’s one thing these comics have established, it’s that Jason is dangerous precisely because he is so intimately familiar with the techniques of the Bat. Jason even makes specific note of the fact that Tim being trained like Bruce and fighting like Bruce would be his downfall at the beginning of their fight.

The whole comic leaves me wondering just how much of what happened went completely according to Jason’s plan. I really would not put it passed him to engineer a ‘death in the family’ recreation for the next Batman in line! As much as I agree that this is garbage characterization for him in many many ways, I do think Jason makes a fantastic villain. I love to see him run rings around the Bats in some places, and make lemonade out of getting his ass kicked in others.

No matter how we interpret the stabbing here though, what does seem very clear to me is that Jason makes the Be My Robin offer to Tim first and foremost because he thinks pretty highly of Tim! He’s been rejected by Tim at least three times over but keeps holding a hand out for him. This does not seem like Tim hater reaction hours here!

Also that whole thing about kids being dragged into this vigilante life irresponsibly? Yeah that’s still there!

I have TRIED to find evidence that Jason hates Tim at like literally any point here. I have gone through the shit people point to. I have looked at the context around those and dug up more obscure interactions for second and third views. Everywhere I look I just see more instances of Jason complimenting Tim!! It’s driving me nuts!

The only conclusion that I can come to is that people read this stuff and just trust that Tim is right about Jason. Tim’s internal view waaay more closely resembles fandom interpretation. Tim assumes that Clayson Toddface would absolutely have killed him in cold blood, that Jason beat the shit out of him purely to prove he was stronger, that he’s a brute, a moron, an active danger to society, and that every bit of leniency given to him will result in betrayal and death.

I don’t have clearer proof for it, but I also don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Tim probably believes Jason has it out for him and holds him responsible for his replacement.

So yeah. As a fascinating reversal of my expectations going in: I don’t think Jason has ever hated Tim, but boy fuckin howdy has Tim HATED Jason.

[ohbo-ohno]

Don't really know what to do with this thought so I'm sharing this with you, but Ghost and Soap getting on a tram one day and the only seats left are next to this timid looking thing, trying to make herself as small as possible, silently hoping these two big men will settle for holding onto one of the poles or handle bars above. They clock in on her immediately, pretending to be kind and polite, making her feel safe as they sit on either side of her, boxing her in. They learn her routine and always get on when she's on.

Slowly, they start to cop a feel every once in a while, apologizing because 'it was an accident' and she doesn't think much of it at first, but she cant help but think something is off about them the more frequently it becomes, so she settles for standing up the next time she gets on the tram, holding onto a pole in the back corner. They'll probably leave her alone, right?

Soap and Ghost get on and see that their new toy has moved from the regular seat, obviously trying to avoid them. They're upset, and instead of leaving her alone like she hoped, they stand next to her, Simon using his body to block the view, though it doesn't really matter to either of them if anyone sees, and Johnny gets behind her to trap her between the pole and himself. They tell her not to make such a fuss as they take turns groping her because what would the people think if they saw her acting so slutty in public?

There's nothing she can do to stop them. It happens every single time she rides the tram now and she can't go on a different one because it's her only mode of transportation to work. It even gets to the point where Ghost and Soap can take a turn to fuck her before her stop because she's so quiet and good for them. They just have to remind her to keep being quiet and good as they fill her up with a load to drip down her thighs throughout her day. When they can, they steal her panties. One day they'll steal her away, too.

- 🥍

hey woah woah. how dare you infect me with these brainworms. not cool! (i love you)

nsfw in link but here's some fanart of ghost doing exactly this ask to soap

cw: noncon

i know a lot of people dislike reader inserts because the reader tends to lack agency, but i personally think it's hot for a character to be taken advantage of and very much so enjoy this image

you probably cant tell from literally everything i've ever posted on this blog but im a big fan of johnny and simon just doing whatever they want to you and you can't stop them. always leaves me melting to imagine them just... not caring whether you want them touching you or not. horrible men

i love this because i can just imagine the increasing discomfort and awkwardness as they push the boundaries of what's acceptable every day.

it starts with johnny just resting his thigh against yours, and yeah its a bit odd that his leg follows you when you try to give him more room, but you figure he's just being a dick and manspreading. and you can't go very far, because you'll bump into simon :( you scooch away from johnny a tiny bit and suddenly there's a big hand on your knee from simon, to hold you still and let he and johnny press against you as much as they want

i also like the image of you sitting in the corner with johnny boxing you in from the other seat and ghost standing in front of you to block every one else's view. johnny maybe leans over you, panting against the top of your head with a hand up your shirt using your tits as stresstoys :/ maybe moves down to sucking at you neck and when you look up you see ghost just staring down at you

ghost having you sit on his lap when you try and stand up one day. sits right behind you, wraps his big hands around the front of your thighs and tugs you down so you're sitting on him. pushes the back of your shirt up, pulls open his pants, and has you warm his cock for the ride :( doesn't fuck you, but maybe he rubs your clit and that + the little bounces of the bus/train moving get you off

[ajastu]

this is a blog made specifically so i can ramble, so time for another one. Been thinking on n off about the concept of a new game in a beloved franchise letting you down in some way, and when expressing that disappointment crosses a certain line.

Like, from personal experience: i was disappointed by dishonored 2. i swear this has something to do with dragon age, bear with me for a moment. The plot fell flat for me, the trailer basically tells you everything that happens in the game, and it really pales in comparison to the way the narrative was crafted in the first game.

HOWEVER, no matter how much of an essay i could write about the shortcomings i, personally, see with dh2, i can still acknowledge that it was a solid fucking game, with care taken in the production of it, and that a lot of people loved it for the exact things that disappointed me, and they are not in the wrong for it.

this got long, unsurprisingly, so the rest ill put behind a read-more 👍

Whenever i talk about what i think could have been done better in the sequel, it is more of a....thought exercise. Because the fact is, we're never getting the dh2 i really wanted, and so there is no need to get upset or frustrated about it. Might as well have fun analyzing it n getting to the core of what it is exactly that felt off, but not in an angry way? more like....having a fun discussion with a friend. pulling a puzzle apart kinda deal. make it Productive, and not just a feedback loop of negative feelings. Find good things in it, even.

So, when i still see people foaming-at-the-mouth mad about veilguard, im not gonna lie, i feel kind of concerned about the mental well-being of some of them.

The fact is. Veilguard is a solid fucking game. Just, objectively speaking. The level design is (to me, at least) intuitive and fun to explore, it does not feel like a slog (looking at you, dai. that one's open world design gave me the most mind-numbingly boring fever dream once), the battle mechanic doesn't make me want to download a 'skip combat' mod, the faction mechanic is fun and closer to the spirit of dao that dai was*, the plot is coherent and has a Theme, and, despite what people like to say, the lore reveals make sense and are consistent with the previous lore in the series 🤷‍♂️. I genuinely do believe that the whole blight origin thing was already thought out before dao came out. thats just how worldbuilding works, usually.

I have a ranking of the DA games in my head, based on how much i liked them. Before datv, it was as follows:

dao (a game of its time, but one i love immensely)

da2

dai (its decent enough, but it never really grabbed me like the other two)

I expected datv to take 4th place. As it currently stands, it might just share the first place with dao, for me personally.

I remember exactly the moment when it clicked for me that playing datv felt like playing dao (it was the first blackthorne mission). And that moment was very special to me. It is also, perhaps, the only game in the series which really actually made me lose my entire mind during certain story missions, but that one might just be because i saw no spoilers before going in.

It is also so so so important to me because of the way they handled the trans and specifically nonbinary representation.

It might not have been exactly what people wanted, but no game will please every single person. like, i am sure that some people dislike the game for exactly the reasons i like it. And the thing is, neither of us is in the wrong. It all comes down to expectations, and how people handle it when something does not meet theirs.

When i went into dh2, it was after a several years long wait for a sequel. I was so excited! I built up this idea of what the game would be like, and i looked forward to seeing it become real. I had Expectations! And the game did not meet most of them. It does not mean it was a bad game. It was just not what i was expecting. I could sit here and pick at it until i start despising it, but that would be a disservice both to me and to the people who put their time and passion into making it.

Before datv's release, my expectations were as low as they could possibly be (because dai is my least fav game in the series, so i was wary about the next one, and because ive heard of the development hell and the fact they were planning to add micro-transactions to the game at some point etc etc). And i do acknowledge that this played a part in how much i ended up enjoying the game. I gave it a chance while not expecting anything, and it let me see it for what it is: a solid fucking game. a good one, even.

I can absolutely see how someone with certain expectation for da4 could be disappointed by the game not addressing the things they wanted to see addressed, or addressing them in a way they don't agree with. I've been there, even! And the fact that i personally liked datv doesn't mean other people can't or shouldn't criticize it.

The difference here lies in where exactly that criticism comes from, and what it hopes to accomplish, and whether or not at some point it becomes more harmful than useful.

When caught up in the spiral of disappointment, it is important to stop and think about whether this is productive. whether this is contributing something to your life. I am no stranger to chewing a bone**. in fact, i am very predisposed to it. Which is exactly why i make an effort to reflect on whether or not it is worth it.

Because, at the end of the day, no matter how much criticism is being put out into the world about datv, or dh2, or what have you, the simple fact remains: it won't change anything about the game that got released. The effort and emotional turmoil is, ultimately, wasted. It is always better to turn that passion into something productive: fanworks, or an essay (in good faith!) that analyzes your own feelings on the topic and what you would want to see differently, or a whole another game/piece of media entirely. It is important to stop coming from a place of vitriol and hatred, because that will burn you out and leave you feeling worse. You have to make a choice to choose joy in your life.

When you see someone enjoying a game you didn't like, and your first reaction is seething hatred and/or a desire to send death threats, you have to ask yourself: is this really worth it?

You're not going to convince people to stop liking a game. Frankly, why would you Want to do that? What will it accomplish in your life? What will it contribute? In the grand scheme of things, a crusade like that is a very foolish thing to burn yourself out over. Put the bone down, and go get a proper meal 🤷‍♂️

________________________________________________

*i dont think that, with the state the current game industry is in, we will ever get another game with a similar bg mechanic like origins had. too many resources needed for that. but the factions are as close as it gets, in my personal opinion

**meaning, fixating on a topic, especially one that causes some kind of negative emotion

[deiastormborn]

Gale of Waterdeep; A much needed look beneath the surface 

Hey all. This is a script for the video I made in defense of Gale. I never had a place to put the text version of it anywhere else, but... if Tumblr isn't a good place for it, then what is?

Warning: Long Read!

________________________

Hi, my name is Stormborn. I’ve been playing Baldur’s Gate for some time, enjoyed it quite a bit. As much as I can appreciate every companion that the game has introduced, Gale of Waterdeep, a charming lil’ wizard, has caught my attention the most. At glance, he is this sarcastic happy-to-go man, always joking around, trying to do the right thing. But, the more you get to know him, the more you slowly uncover his trauma, as much as he, himself, is trying to deny it.

Honestly, I thought that Gale would be liked by many people, I genuinely expected him to be one of the most chosen companions, and one of the most romanced ones. But, to my surprise, I’ve been seeing him getting more hate than I anticipated. Some people call his way of speaking way too annoying and complicated, some people call him clingy and creepy, mostly due to the glitch that would skyrocket his approval of you, probing him to romance you. Genuinely, it is okay to dislike some companion in favor of the other one. But I could not get rid of the feeling that people just despise his guts unjustifiably. 

One of the main reasons, besides the ones I covered earlier, is that people hate his ‘obsession’ with Mystra, the goddess of magic he happened to romance. I saw people complain that he just cannot stop talking about her, even while you romance him, and I can’t help but wonder if people were paying attention to his story at all. And I cannot blame them, as Gale always portrays his romance with Mystra as something so special, so unique, and as something to be proud of. But, let me explain to why you should be able to judge his story for yourself, rather than simply listen to what he is saying.

Gale is a talented wizard, so talented that he got attention from Mystra herself for his talent of channeling the weave. The story says that he is so powerful, that he could potentially destroy a whole village by basically sneezing in its direction. However, we all need to remember that he got attention from Mystra at the very, very young age. If I am not mistaken, the first time Mystra clawed onto him was when he turned 16. Ever since then, Mystra was feeding him all kinds of praise, prompting him to seek power, ensuring him that he can become Mystra’s chosen, and, mind you, *started romancing him ever since*. It is not a secret that Gale was not the first, however, if you really think of it, such revelation can seriously mess with a mind of a teenager. Not only it might boost the self-esteem, but also make him think that he is better than anyone else. And, I assure you, it is exactly what Mystra wanted. By giving him some form of attention, minimum affection, she had Gale on the hook. And Gale, as a boy obsessed with magic, who has been worshiping Mystra before he even met her, didn’t require much effort in getting hooked. But here comes the problem: as much as it is uplifting to get a praise from a literal Goddess of all magic, it is also as equally devastating to get any kind of critique or a cold shoulder.

Mystra was messing with his mind, making him feel like, no matter how well he does, he can always do better, as he has so much potential. With such authority, Gale would believe her. And it would make him always chase something more to impress her, rather than settle and appreciate what he has. It is also a reason to why the whole mess with the Orb began in the first place. People seem to call Gale power hungry, which, as any companion in the game, it is possible for him to go down that route. But they seem to forget one important detail: Gale thought that the Orb was a missing relic of Mystra’s magic, and he wanted to, yet again, impress her by bringing it back. Please remember that Gale was still a young adult, if not a teenager, when this happened. And it would all be resolved if Mystra would not shatter his self-esteem as much as she did. So, he made a mistake, and the Orb became his burden. And yet again, rather than explain this to her ‘chosen one’, she basically banished him, and left him with no answers for many years to come.

Gale isolated himself to keep people around him safe, with nothing but the books and the cat for the company. I think I do not need to mention on how that can play with your mind, too. But, in spite of all, Gale’s blind loyalty and obsession with Mystra kept him wanting for more attention, more answers, so he kept seeking more power, and more ways to get Mystra’s approval. At the day you first meet him, this is the first time he has been amongst people. Yet he still kept his jolly appearance, messing around with Tav, and appreciating everything that surrounds him.

I do not know if this is obvious just yet, but Mystra has basically groomed the kid. If we look at the very definition of grooming, Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. And it is most prominent when it comes from the place of higher authority. I think I do not need to explain that, in the fantasy setting, there is no higher authority than the God or a Goddess. Yet, for one reason or another, this seems to not be taken serious. And I think I have an explanation as to why.

When you talk to Gale about Mystra, or when you let him talk about her first, he is still full of admiration, obsession, and the unending pride. There is still some bitterness lingering somewhere in him, yet it Is not as powerful as any other feeling he has towards her. I’ve noticed people basically hating him for saying something like ‘Yeah, I banged Mystra, that’s pretty cool, right?’. But think of it this way: wouldn’t Mystra *want* him to think that it’s ‘pretty cool’? And who are we to say that it was the real Mystra he had an intimate moment with? For all we know, she might have conjured an illusion, to satisfy him and feed into his ego. If the romance between them was as real as Gale thinks it was, do you really think Mystra would just abandon him with no answers for a mistake such as this? After all, Gale was young, and had barely any experience. All he had was wizards, such as him, or more powerful than him, and her. If she truly cared about putting him to a right path, rather than using him for her needs, the outcome would be ever so different. 

I would also like to address that people do not think of it as a simple coping mechanism. Even if you look at the society these days, most of the time, when a man comes with a confession of, say, a woman taking advantage of him, it is often met with ‘wow dude, you got lucky’, rather than with a serious concern. Who are we to say that Gale, rather than simply try to reflect and recognize his relationship with Mystra as an illusion, didn’t just decide to get along with it and be proud instead? Even then, when you romance him further, he is slowly realizing that it was not as real as he once thought. In Gale’s own words: ‘there is no love between us. I was not the first, and I certainly won’t be the last’. Gale finally, ever so slowly, starts to understand that he was simply used by Mystra for his talent. Being a deity means that you are only powered by the followers you still have. It is in the god’s interests to keep people interested in them, or they will loose power. Using Gale, knowing he was an extremely skillful wizard, was in Mystra’s interests. She does not give him answers, but keeps him interested in her enough to keep him in her claws, spreading more words of her, attracting more people to follow her godhood. There was no real romance, she was interested in his power more than himself. And you can help him realize that.

But, with such dynamic comes a price, which also becomes more prominent when you play the game further: Gale never feels good enough. With the first chance he can sacrifice himself for a greater good, he takes it. He has no real appreciation of his life, he does not take it as something valuable. He is deeply depressed and traumatized. When a person moves away from the environment that scarred them, it can become extremely overbearing, difficult, and overwhelming. People also seem to act as if it is weird that, with any kind of hurt, Gale’s first reaction is to ‘blow himself up’. It doesn’t take much to know that he won’t do it if it were to mean that someone can get hurt, but he is saying that because, maybe, partially, he *wanted* to die. He has finally found appreciation amongst other people, who are not wizards like him, people who do not know him well, and people who do not want him to constantly be the best version of himself. He falls in love with Tav, because Tav is showing him kindness, and proving to him that he does not have to be someone that he is not to be loved. In that very vulnerable state, any kind of hurt or rejection hits you more. Not to mention that, the only time he ever says it, was after the night he spent with you. After he opened up, shared his fears, more of his past, even said out loud that, in truth, he does not want to die. He let himself be vulnerable, the most vulnerable he has probably been in years, so it is not a question of his ego being hurt: it is a situation where a man, who always kept to himself, has finally let someone in, and got hurt. I am sure one of us, at one point in life, said something like ‘well guess I go die’ as a joke. This is the only way Gale knows how to respond: joking about his pain. He does not mean it, but says it anyway, because it is the first thing that came to his mind. He has been a very reserved companion through the whole time, always seemed to know what to say, and he acted on an emotion after a very emotional night. 

It is also a fact that, even while he is slowly realizing that Mystra used him, he does not mind dying because she asked him to do so. That does not only prove a point that Mystra does not have any real regards to him other than a tool, but also that she was using him for her own sake. With The Absolute getting more followers, her power also weakens. The Absolute is a threat, not only because of the infection and danger to mere humans, but also to her godhood. And who better to deal with it than the man she has so methodically conditioned to do as she wishes? You would think that, a goddess as powerful as Mystra, could try to take care of things on her own. And yet again, the only time Mystra ever gives him any answers, is when she needs him to be used. That is, yet again, a definition of the grooming.

Gale will do anything for a little bit of appreciation, anything to be noticed, and we cannot blame him. This is why you, a player, as a Tav, have a power in you to make him realize that he, as he is now, is valid. It is almost as if Gale forgot that he is such a talented wizard after all the stuff with Mystra. You, as a player, have it in you to remind him. And once you do, Gale slowly separated himself from Mystra as her ex-lover, and only answers to her as his deity. After all, she is a goddess of all magic, it will be hard to reject her entirely.

Victims of grooming or any kind of abuse often can’t let go of the person who harmed them. They will talk about them, they will mention them, they might even try to grasp onto good things, or make it seem like bad things that happened weren’t really all that bad. Combine that with a constant feeling of never being good enough, and not knowing a genuine kindness outside of his very small circle, and you have Gale. A charming, sarcastic, jolly Wizard, who is also as ever troubled. 

Moving on to other topic that people seem to judge Gale for, is that, once a chance arrives, he starts grasping onto Godhood, wishing to become a God himself. It is also in that situation where he starts to say that he would have the power to completely overthrow Mystra. People seem to criticize him for his hunger for power, and also, altogether, call him ungrateful. I would like to add another opinion on that: while Gale is slowly realizing that he was being used, he went through all 5 stages of grief. But here comes the other one, that is mentioned much less: revenge. He wants to show Mystra that she was wrong about him. He wants to prove to her that, after all this time, he *was* good, if not better than her. On top of that, he is still trying to fix his never-ending self-esteem issues. While he is seeking godhood, he still thinks that, him, as he is now, will never be enough, and only by becoming God he can truly become worthy… of anything. If you romance him, he later apologizes to you, but also asks to let him explain to why the Godhood would be good for him, and you, as a couple. Gale wants to give you everything. The entire world. He wants to be the very best version of himself, for you, his lover. He thinks that he can only achieve that by becoming a God. He doesn’t realize that, maybe, without it, he can still be a valuable partner. He even talks to you about it, openly, saying that you deserve better. It is, yet again, in your power to remind him that you do not need him to be anything more than he is now. And, rather than with anger, he answers to you with a surprise. He truly, genuinely, can’t believe that you would take him as he is now. This is how deeply his trauma runs in his mind. And, once he finally believes you, this is where he finally calms down. This is finally when he accepts himself, and lets it all go. He is not repaired, but he is on his path towards healing. All because you, a player, convinced him, and reminded him of his value.

I think Gale’s approach towards things have deeply changed the perception of the players. Because he is in so much denial, people seem to just go along with what he says. He is proud of sleeping with Mystra - so people take it for what it is. Gale might not be your type, or even the most interesting companion to you compared to others, but I truly, genuinely think, that the hate he has received has been a little too much. Every companion has a burden, everyone expresses it differently, on their own pace. Gale has chosen the approach that makes the most sense in his situation. He is just a guy who was thrown into a mess made by the Goddess he worshiped at the young age. He is just someone who is trying to do good. And I hope that a small essay such as this helped and shed some light on his story. 

Men can be groomed, they can be taken advantage of. I think it is our duty to also recognize it, and show a little patience. After all, Gale is not the first example of such abuse. And, sadly, won’t be the last.

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAnZHJtYkcg

[2baddiesfanfics]

Not a Burden

Pairing: Robin x F Reader

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Scissoring, Kissing

Summary:

Back on the high seas after the defeat of Kaido, the crew takes a bit of time to relax. However, one member of the Straw Hats is noticeably missing – its archaeologist. Nami alerts y/n (female reader), and she seeks Robin out to get the bottom of it. You knew that fight with Black Maria was only over in one way.

Read on Ao3

The sun was beginning to set and the silhouette of the Land of Wano had disappeared behind the clouds as the crew continued on their way to their next destination. With one of the fiercest battles they’d ever fought now behind them, the Straw Hats were grateful to be settling back into their routines on the Sunny.

Zoro could be found napping on the lawn while Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp played (a little too loudly) on the swings near him. The soft notes of Brook’s music wafted throughout the ship; over the years he had discovered if he stood in a certain spot on the deck, the sea breeze would carry his voice so everyone could hear.

The aroma of burgers and an assortment of other delectable meats still lingered in the air from tonight’s dinner. Sanji remained in the kitchen, putting the dishes away and starting preparations for tomorrow’s meals.

Franky and Jinbei’s voices could be heard deep in conversation, as the cyborg wanted to get to know the newest member of the crew on a more personal level. The two men walked around the vessel as the shipwright started making blueprints to build accommodations for him.

As you quietly observe the scenes unfolding before you, you hear Nami’s soft steps approach. “Hey, y/n! Have you seen Robin? She isn’t in the library and was even more quiet than normal at dinner.”

“No…I was about to come see if she was with you. I’m sure she’s fine and just needed some alone time,” you reassure her.

Nami nodded and walked down to the lawn to join the others. You thought it was odd Robin wasn’t here enjoying the after-dinner festivities. The two of you would usually watch them from afar as you cuddled with a book. You knit your brow.

This isn’t like her…

Concerned, you decide to go check in on your girlfriend.

You and Robin had become a couple shortly after the crew saved her at Enies Lobby. Having joined a week after she did, you fell for her as soon as your eyes met. You could sense there was a deep yet indescribable pain in the way she looked not just at you, but at everyone else on the ship as well.

Hesitant to get too close too fast and scare her off, you opted to take your time in getting to know everything about her - where she came from, her likes and dislikes, and what she did for fun. It was through your time together you started to think you were out of your depth.

Not only were you naturally introverted, you had already resigned yourself to the idea someone as beautiful and intelligent as her could never feel the same way about you. Despite this, you were still able to bond over how much the two of you had in common. Little did you know…the love you grew to have for her was indeed reciprocated.

A confession didn’t occur until after the tumultuousness of her rescue. After almost having lost her once, there was no way you’d ever let her go through an experience like that again. You still remember it like it was yesterday.

Robin, I know you’ve been hurt, betrayed, and treated as if you were some kind of monster. While I can never truly understand how that feels and changes you as a person, I can make you a promise: For as long as we’re together, I will NEVER allow you to go through that again. I’m yours, forever and always…if you’ll have me.

Neither of you could stop crying at that point, but it didn’t matter. Words weren’t needed. The two of you embraced and the deal was sealed.

Not long after, Franky surprised the both of you. After returning from the two years of training every member of the crew underwent, he built a separate room for you to share. While bunking with Nami was always fun, being able to have a moment to yourselves was a nice option.

“Robin? I’m coming in…” you say as you knock on the door to alert her of your presence.

As you enter the room, you see her sitting on the bed still wearing the lilac kimono she had acquired in Wano. Your breath hitched each time you saw her in it and your heart began to race. You shut the door and walk toward her.

“Hey, beautiful! What are…” you stop mid-question at the sound of soft sniffles. Rushing to her side, you take a seat next to her.

“What’s wrong?” Concern obvious in the tone of your voice.

Placing the back of her hand to her mouth, she whimpers again, nodding her head in the negative. “It’s nothing, love, don’t worry,” she says, tears quietly streaming down her cheeks.

You rub her leg to comfort her. “Flower, please talk to me. You’ve been more quiet than usual since the battles ended. Are your injuries bothering you? I can go get Chopper,” you say, hoping she won’t be too proud to allow you to get her some help.

Wiping her tears away, she places her other hand atop yours, resting them together on her lap. She faces you, her eyes bluer than the waters of even the clearest ocean. The tears that linger make them glisten in a sadly stunning way. Even distraught she was a sight to behold.

“When I was fighting Black Maria, she called me a tramp and a burden to the crew. In the heat of the battle, none of that even registered. But now, those words…‘you’re a burden’… I can’t help but wonder sometimes if there’s some truth to that statement.”

You flip your hand over and hold hers tight. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, you wordlessly urge her to continue.

“At times, I do feel like I don’t belong. After spending years being treated like I wasn’t needed or that my existence itself was a crime…what if it’s all true and I’ve been lying to myself? I’m not proud of what I’ve done in the past, but I had to do it if I wanted any chance at survival…” tears burst forth once again, and you pull her into your lap and hold her close to your chest. You kiss the top of her head as you wait until she regains her composure.

Once she settles down, you caress her cheek as she listens to the steady rhythm of your heart. This grounds her and helps her clear her head.

“Robin, my love, you’re certainly not a burden and you shouldn’t be ashamed of what you had to do to survive. You said it yourself - you simply want to live.” Your soft smile brings a stop to her crying.

“You were alone for a very long time, and from such a young age, at that. The crew wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t here. We love and need you. Nami has someone she looks up to as an older sister, and the knowledge only you have helps her construct accurate maps. Usopp takes inspiration from your scary stories to come up with new weapons to protect himself.” You feel her chuckle against you at the humorous images this evokes.

“Zoro respects the strength and will you have, and only steps in to protect you when he feels it’s needed. Sanji cooks for all of us, but you know he’d make anything you asked of him to special order, just for you. I did actually feel a little bad when he cried when we told him we were together.” You both laugh at the memory of him sobbing on the kitchen counter after you revealed to the crew you were an item.

“Brook appreciates you for being one of the first crew members to accept a skeleton joining and seeing him as a person. Jinbei admires your battle ability and has mentioned to me he wouldn’t want to fight you. Franky has someone to talk to about Pluton and the potential of what the world government would do with it.” You pause for a moment to let her take in your words before continuing.

“Of course, Chopper sees you as a mother figure even if he doesn’t admit it. He’d be lost without your calm, steady presence amongst this rambunctious crew. Most importantly, there’s Luffy. You are the one who is going to help guide him and the rest of this crew to our dreams. He can only become king of the pirates with all of our help - everyone here has a role to play, and none of us are here by mistake. This crew is your nakama and they would never see you as a burden.”

Placing a finger gently under her chin, you tilt her head up to look at you. “As for me, you taught me how to love and that someone like me is worthy of being loved by someone like you. You allow me to be me and accept me without judgment. I would do anything for you, flower. If anything happened to you, I’d turn this world upside down to save you. Do you not remember what I told you when I confessed? I’m yours, forever and always. I love you, Robin,” you declare as you kiss her forehead. She smiles up at you as she leans in closer.

“You have no idea what that means to me. Thank you. You always know what to say to make me feel better. I love you, too, y/n,” she whispers as she leans in and gently brushes her lips against yours. You kiss for what seems like an eternity in the best way, but a sense of unease causes you to pull back.

Taking her hands in yours, you ask, “Wait…are you sure you want this? I didn’t say what I said for any other reason but to make you see how cherished you are and I don’t want you to feel li-”

“Shhh,” she places a finger to your lips before you can finish. “Trust me. I think this is something we both need right now.”

Who am I to argue?

She pulls you back to her and captures your mouth with hers. The soft sounds coming from both of you cause your body to thrum with need, but you don’t dare make a move. It’s her turn to feel empowered and what better way than to let her take the reins?

Her body weight shifts, and you move further back onto the bed you share with her. The scent of the freshly washed sheets underneath you mixed with the familiar smell of tea and old books on her skin is enough to drive you mad, but somehow you remain in control of your senses.

Robin slides on top of you, and your bodies fit together as if you were made for one another. The pad of her thumb now traces your bottom lip as if it were a page from her favorite story. Your tongue darts out for a taste, and you see the pupils of her gorgeous sapphire eyes dilate. Taking her hand and turning it slightly, you place a kiss on her palm. Your mouth meets her wrist and you can feel her pulse quicken against your lips.

She extracts herself from your grip and her hands seek the hem of your shirt. The feel of her fingertips on your flesh nearly sets you on fire. Despite having done this many times before, there’s a renewed sense of urgency to this moment. Your hands get lost in tangles of raven-black hair as you draw her into a deeper kiss.

The moan she lets out echoes throughout your body as she tugs at your top, coaxing you to assist her in shedding it. You pull it up and over your head, only to see she’s shedding her kimono. Your mouth runs dry. You’ve seen this play out before, but the sight never ceases to remind you just how lucky you are.

Eager to be as close as possible, you both quickly remove the remainder of your clothing.

Her tender kisses make you so dizzy you’re glad she’s the one on top. As she moves her hand to caress your breast, you can’t stop yourself from groaning her name.

“Robin…”

You feel her mouth form a grin against yours. She takes pride in knowing what you like and never fails to make your head spin.

“Yes, love…let me make you feel as good as you’ve made me feel tonight.” Her words are sweet and tender in tone, but erotic at the same time. You feel her fingers teasing at your nipple and your body arches into hers.

“Oh god…please…Robin…”

Her touches remain light, conveying the emotion of this delicate moment. She’s treating you as if you might break, and for all you know, she may be right. You feel her elegant hand brush past your belly, and your face flushes - not out of embarrassment, but out of knowledge and anticipation of what’s coming next.

Your arousal already coats the inside of your thighs, and you’re aching to feel her touch where it’s most needed. As if she’s read your mind, you feel her middle finger tease your entrance. Your head slams back into the pillow, and your reaction tells her you can easily take another finger. Robin meets no resistance as she slides into you.

“Ahhhhhh…Robin…”

“Mmmm…I love hearing you call out my name. You know I’ll always be there for you in any way you need me. Especially like this,” her movements are steady, practiced. You know each other’s bodies down to a science.

“Robin…going to…”

She dips her head down to your ear, the heat of her breath warming your skin. Her teeth graze the shell of your ear as her seductive voice - the voice that is both tender and teasing at the same time - whispers, “I know…let me hear you…”

And just like that, you shatter. Your eyes snap shut from the intensity of your orgasm, but the image of Robin’s beautiful smile remains etched in your mind.

She carefully moves to lay beside you and kisses your cheek as you bask in the afterglow of what’s just occurred. A strand of your hair sticks to your flushed face, and you feel her soft fingers brush it away as your breathing slows. When you turn your head to look over at her, you’re greeted by her gleaming smile.

“Welcome back, love,” she whispers coyly.

You lean over to kiss her and, in no time at all, your positions are now reversed. Words can only convey so much - now it’s her turn. When your lips part, you look into her eyes and say, “Now let me show you how loved you are.”

She wraps her arms around your neck and pulls you back down towards her, your mouths crashing together once more. You feel her tongue push past your lips and suddenly your chest feels like it’s on fire. Your hand hovers over her breast and you feel her hum in anticipation. Sliding your thumb back and forth over her hardening nipple, she sighs at your touch.

“I love how intelligent you are,” you murmur as you lean up to kiss her forehead. Making your way back to her lips, you continue, “I love your wit and humor, even when it’s dark and freaks out Usopp.” You feel her chuckle vibrate against your teeth. Knowing she’s now completely relaxed, you glide your hand from her breast to between her legs. She gasps as you lubricate your fingers with her slick.

As you kiss her neck, you whisper, “You are the bravest, strongest woman I know and it’s one of the many reasons I look up to you.” You mark her neck, leaving a reminder you know she’ll see in the morning and playfully chastise you for later.

Resting your chin on her chest, you watch as she closes her eyes in ecstasy at the feel of your fingertips on her bud. The beating of her heart is the most beautiful rhythm you’ve ever heard and reflects the vision that now lies beneath you.

“Your caring heart and selflessness are just a few of the many traits I adore.” You continue showering her in affirmations as you slide your finger up and down her slit.

“Y/n…I need you,” she whimpers.

“Of course, my flower. You know I’m always here to take care of you,” you reply as you sit up and gently part her legs. Positioning yourself between them, you place one hand next to her head for support. Your cores now aligned, you start to slowly thrust against her.

“Ohhhhhhh yes!” she moans.

You start to speed up your rhythm as the evidence of your arousal mixes with her own. With your other hand, you reach for hers and your fingers interlock.

Between ragged breaths, you somehow choke out, “I thank the universe every day for you. I love you, Robin.”

Her head snaps back and you feel her tremble under you. She moans your name between your whispers ‘I love you’ as her orgasm washes over her. You watch as she comes undone. As the only one who gets to see this side of her, you feel like the luckiest person in all of the Grand Line.

You grind out your own release and come once again, nearly toppling over. When you next open your eyes, a red-faced Robin is smiling back up at you. Bringing your face to hers, you nuzzle your nose against hers before lying down next to her. You pull her to you, her head pillowed comfortably against your chest. You run your hand through her hair and bring her hand to your chest where your heart steadily beats for her.

Kissing her forehead, you say, “I love you. You’re not a burden, and you’re not alone anymore. If you ever have these thoughts or feelings again, promise me you’ll come to me. We’ll talk it out. Or do this again,” you say with a wink.

You feel her burrow closer. “I promise. I love you, too. And…thank you.”