#let him be complicated and complex and interesting

[goldenbi]

“Forgiving”???? It’s a fictional character. The whole point of fanfiction is to explore characters and have fun with them.

Writing about villains is not endorsing their beliefs, jesus christ, how many times do we have to say this???

Writing characters with complexity and nuance is a good writing skill. It makes stories good. Enjoyable even. Because you know.. people are complicated? Because stories need plot? Because stories need conflict? Because stories have character growth?

I’m sorry you think what people read or write makes them a bad person but people can write stories about whatever the fuck they want and it does not affect their morality.

And thankfully I can see the difference between fiction and real life or else I’d think you were saying you don’t care about abuse, bullying or suffering. That would be so embarrassing.

I mean… Does your hero do all the right things all the time?

If you lied and said yes, great. I’m not usually into fluff but I’d read it. But is it what I’m drawn to? No.

Even if you are just mad about people making cute art of the evil guy: The most popular romance books are all about women falling for the villain (Including murderers, mafia bosses, bullies). It’s a popular trope because it’s FUN, it’s INTERESTING, it’s HOT. I highly recommend ContraPoints video essay about theories on why women like these characters.

Think about what you can write about if you include a vile, evil character as a love interest: redemption, morality, shame, taboo desire, forgiveness, violence, good vs evil, blame, guilt... god, its so juicy!!

The questions get even more interesting: What could drive a person to join one of these groups? Did they fall in love before or after? What if they don't want out? What if the hero exploited their love to win the war? Could we fix him? How would the war change if this one person was shown an ounce of love? How much love would it take to fix everything? On the flipside: How evil can someone get? What amount of cruelty breaks a person? How do you survive it? Why are people cruel? How do they become that way?

If we are connecting this to real life: Why might someone like a character that was abused and made mistakes and was still loved? Why might someone like a character getting revenge on his bullies? Why might someone find comfort in darkness? Why do people like BDSM and heavy kinks? Could it be for the same reason they like dark fiction? Why are the only queer-coded characters the villains? Why is violence (e.g. like that of vampires or werewolves) so sexy for some people?

Let's go back to the beginning: Why would someone try to forgive these characters? Why does Harry try to get Voldemort to feel remorse instead of trying to kill him? Why does Harry save Draco even when he's been a bully the entire time? Why does Sirius say "the world isn’t split into good people and Death Eaters"?

Don't get reality twisted up in fiction and think they are the same. Hating the fake people in a book isn't going to get real life terrorists, bullies and abusers to stop. And making a post about how gross it is that people like fictional characters certainly won't do anything to get them to stop.

Let people enjoy their fiction while they can in this fucked up world we're in.

i will say this once: i do not care that the bad men you like were abused. i dont care that they suffered. yeah, regulus grew up in a shitty family but i do not care. he could've been abused day and night i do not care. he joined a terrorist group, a genocide and he supported an ethnic cleansing. i don't care that barty jr was abused or put under imperio, i think, sincerely, that it was justified. he tortured people to insanity i have no pity for him. i don't care that snape was hated, that he was bullied or abused. he was a bad person. i don't understand how you guys are forgiving of people just because they've suffered and it genuinely speaks so about your own mindset

[kindlingkeen]

(i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, it's late, but i just realized a lot of this recently and i needed to put it into words so i hope you don't mind)

i've been thinking recently and while i don't mind fics with lazarus pit madness (or lazarus pit side-effects that basically amount to uncontrollable rage or violent blackouts, etc) if they are written well and the madness is handled in an interesting way, i've recently taken to mostly avoiding them because — well first of all so many of them are about tim, which. sometimes i want to read a jason fic that's actually about jason. anyway,, — i've realized that a lot of the time the "lazarus pit madness" is used to excuse everything jason has done since he was dunked. it's the reason he kills now, it's the reason he cut off those heads, it's the reason he beat tim bloody in titan's tower, etc.

instead of letting jason be a character who has his own morals, different and not what is usually considered "acceptable" as they may be, instead of exploring how they influence how he does things as the red hood, or how his own morals, his unique code affects his relationships with the batfam, he's just sort of… flat? he's made into basically nothing but a walking wall of seething green that's easily triggered and makes his black out with rage and is to blame for every violent thing he does — he is given no responsibility for his actions. and i've found that a lot of these fics end with the pit madness either somehow being done away with or at least being dealt with and then jason is back with his family happily ever after completely exonerated because it's not his fault, he didn't make those decisions, the pit did

i just,,, what about a jason who is aware of his actions? what about a jason who has thought things through and decided what kind of person he was going to make himself into? what about a jason who looked his trainers in the eye and knew he was going to kill them, who makes a plan and follows through, who didn't have to cut off those heads but he had a statement to make and maybe cutting them off was awful and horrible no matter that he decided they deserved to die but he did it because it needed done? and he's fully aware of what he's doing, he is responsible for his actions and any consequences. and he's going to do whatever he's going to do anyway. i think he's a much more interesting character that way

You 🤝 Me. Let’s be best friends. We can start a fan club, the let-Jason-have-his-autonomy club. I’ll be treasurer (fair warning, I plan to blow our budget on Red Hood stickers).

In all seriousness, yes, this, exactly this. I read a ton of these fics when I first got into the fandom, and I still enjoy a good pit madness fic from time to time, but nowadays I tend to want so much more for Jason.

For whatever reason, I think there’s a lot of “fast” fanfiction (as in the idea of “fast fashion”) written about Jason. It leans hard into a popular trope, hits those hurt/comfort vibes with a wrecking ball, and usually ends up absolutely nerfing Jason.

Writing a Jason who’s resolute in his mission and his methods, a Jason who is balanced and believable, is hard. Writing that kind of Jason and getting him to authentically reconcile with the Bats without sacrificing his autonomy is miles past hard. Reading that kind of Jason, staring uncomfortable truths in the face, that can also be hard. It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay (*grumbles unhappily*).

Thanks so much for the ask, anon, and for sharing your thoughts with me. 💙💙💙

[spacespheal]

When I say that Leona's murder attempt on Ruggie lives rent free in my head I'm not joking.

(Version without the sand and close-ups under read-more)

[napstabl00k]

they meet for the first time because rouge is causing trouble. it isn't anything big, yet, but riza catches her. [image 1]

riza means to question her, at least. she doesn't get to, though. an agent appears too quickly, telling riza to let rouge go. he outranks riza. and so rouge is off -- though not before telling riza that it's wonderful to meet her.

rouge stays in riza's mind for a while after that. she'd been causing trouble, though clearly the government doesn't mind. it implies some importance, though the quiet kind. the kind that means riza doesn't know her. she considers bringing it up to someone, but there's no need to, yet. all she has so far is curiousity and suspicion. that doesn't make anything. not now.

time goes on. things are getting more complicated. riza is working with roy and the brothers to keep the philosopher's stone from being created. trying to fight these sins that mean to kill anyone who means to stop them.

rouge appears, almost conveniently, while roy is working. everyone is in the office when she shows up, and she makes a show of her conversation with him.

riza could almost laugh. the two of them seem like the same type of person. she flirts, he flirts back. the conversation is a give and take. she offers information, he allows some back. some true, some not. her eyes wander, but not over him. she's sizing up everyone else.

she sizes up riza with an appreciative look. riza raises a brow back. the smirk miss rouge gives is ever so pleased.

she leaves, soon, and riza pulls roy back to his closed office under the guise of punishment for his flirtations. she asks him what he thinks she was looking for. he doesn't have a good answer, but he has suspicions. suspicions that tell him they're in trouble.

riza tells him that she knows the higher ups care for her. she was saved from any sort of trouble, a while ago. roy's brows raise. someone to keep an eye on then.

riza agrees.

time passes. rouge keeps coming back. her words are pretty, but her meanings are so informative. maybe too informative. more than someone allied as she is should be.

riza allows herself close. not too close, and it isn't real, but she's close. riza shares secrets about herself over coffee. fake ones, usually, making her seem deeper and more complex. interesting for a woman like this rouge. real ones, so as not to be caught in her lies.

after a short day out, rouge beckons riza down and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. as she lingers there, she whispers a place and time.

"meet me, won't you?" she asks. "and don't stand me up. i'm a lady who doesn't like waiting."

her eyes are sharp, and the place she's chosen isn't the romantic type. she grips riza's hand hard.

it's suspicious, but they haven't gotten this far by playing it safe. rouge has given them a lot, and even though they thought it may have been an accident, riza hasn't been so sure.

perhaps this is a trap. she'll keep roy on backup. pretend to go alone.

when she gets there, nearly a week later, it isn't rouge waiting. riza feels a drop in her stomach. the betrayal isn't unexpected, but part of it still hurts.

envy laughs. he seems so pleased, notes rouge's trickery by name, says that he's a bit awed that riza is the kind of woman to be fooled by batted eyes and a pair of-

he's cut off by rouge appearing from almost nowhere, wrapping a cord around envy's throat. surprise gets him first, and then the shapeshifting starts. riza calls for her backup and takes a moment to shoot envy.

she's a sharp shot, and it hits them. rouge is safe.

envy escapes, running further into the maze of the place they're in. roy appears just barely too late.

there's a talk. rouge is so offhand about it all. she'd hoped that roy would have been closer, that he'd make it close enough to use his fire while she held greed still. roy asks how she knew he'd be there. rouge says that riza's predictable. cute.

she grabs riza's arm and leads them around the underground maze, leading them to fuckin. lust or whatever. i dont remember how he killed her but roy does his shit, rouge stays back [she's good at gathering information but not so much at fghting].

the whole thing happens with lust and shit, rouge is clearly a traitor to the homunculi because roy was too late, but she's fighting on their side now. openly.

rouge keeps to riza's side, mostly, with riza learning more about her, really. she talks about her friends, this one frien dof hers named shadow and how he's being used by the government, how he vouched for her abilities and so she was allowed to keep her life, though she hates those in charge for what they've done to her life and the lives of others. she shares all that she knows about the philosopher's stone.

rouge seeks a sort of comfort in riza. a quiet one. what she shares with her is the things that are relevant to their mission, but she's often at riza's side, overplaying her flirtations, and yet searching for that touch where she can get it.

riza allows her-- more than allows her. keeps rouge close under the guise of keeping an eye, of trying to get what she can out of her.

the two of them are secretive. their love is a quiet thing too.

but when riza is in trouble, rouge is happy to swoop in on leather wings, save her where she can. riza's bullets will fall close but never hit rouge, only dangers over her shoulder.

when rouge kisses riza for the first time, it's an "i'm sorry if this is goodbye."

and then it almost is. but when they both survive, rouge rests her head on riza's chest and listens to her heartbeat and loves.

their love is still something kept behind closed doors, talked about in whispers to each other. rouge is still overly flirtatious, as though still trying for riza's hand. riza still takes what rouge gives with a deadpan. but where others can't see, they hold each other close, kiss with a desperation, claw at waists and bite at lips. it's love, and a little bloody and a little hidden. it's a love like them.

@sonicfemslashweek -- Free day

my fun and funky crackship, everyone clap for my version of rouge and topaz- rouge and riza fucking hawkeye

[chase-solidago]

Invasive Species and Xenophobia

Invasive species are complicated! People have a lot of feelings about them, positive and negative. Are plants that move "invaders" "colonizing", "immigrants", "citizens"? What does it mean to kill species that are from somewhere else? What if that species legitimately makes a poor neighbor and causes extinctions in other, native species? This complex, culturally-loaded issue is a foundational issue behind a lot of plant conservation and restoration.

This is a juicy and still actively disputed topic! The Guardian recently had a big article on colonialism in Botany, (tbh her views are dated and reductive, imo) and it’s come up again this week, to much hostility (cw: reddit). Yes, my region's native plant restoration came from literal nazis, but also, the impacts of some invasive species are real, not figments of a racist imagination. How do we balance these issues? What does ethical invasive management look like?

Since it’s such a juicy topic, I wanted to offer a few fun readings to share:

The Native Plant Enthusiasm: Ecological Panacea or Xenophobia?, Gert Gröning and Joachim Wolschke-Bulmahn, 2004, Arnoldia.

THE CLASSIC 20th century German nazis and native plants paper. Made a huge splash when it came out, and you will still encounter people who paint all native plant stuff with this brush. Summary: yeah the nazis loved their native plants and used them as part of their conquering process. Also, the first prairie plantings ever, located in Chicago, were done by a racist probable-nazi for racist reasons, full stop. I’ll let him speak for himself: “The gardens that I created myself shall… be in harmony with their landscape environment and the racial characteristics of its inhabitants. They shall express the spirit of America and therefore shall be free of foreign character as far as possible… the Latin and the Oriental crept and creeps more and more over our land, coming from the South, which is settled by Latin people, and also from other centers of mixed masses of immigrants. The Germanic character of our race, of our cities and settlements was overgrown by foreign character. The Latin spirit has spoiled a lot and still spoils things every day.” - Jens Jensen

Botanical decolonization: rethinking native plants, Tomaz Mastnak, 2014, Environment and Planning D: Society and Space

Rather than viewing native plant plantings as an act of racially-pure occupation, Mastnak positions native plants in California as a decolonization of the sub/urban lawn. Uses a lot of quotations from 16th century English philosopher Francis Bacon, and is heavy on the philosophical musings.

From killing lists to healthy country: Aboriginal approaches to weed control in the Kimberley, Western Australia by Bach et al., 2019, Journal of Environmental Management.

This paper talks through some of the native vs invasive debate, and offers a different perspective on how to approach to plant invasive management based on cultural relations, rather than country of origin or behavior.

Beyond ‘Native V. Alien’: Critiques of the Native/alien Paradigm in the Anthropocene, and Their Implications, Charles R. Warren, 2021, Ethics, Policy, & Environment

DENSE but thorough, if you want to follow the entire history of the native/invasive debate, this has you covered. The most interesting stuff, in my opinion, is the discussion of invasive denialism, IE: the impasse of “You’re just being racist!” Vs “You know nothing about ecology!” I recommend the Discussion, which starts on page 13.

[22ayla21]

👀 What do you think the reaction of the father(amphoreus male) will be, when their kids ask them how they made a kid (meanwhile we just run away leaving the husband to answer the kid's question).

Can you make this as my request too? ✌😋

A difficult question

The reaction of Amphoreus men when their children ask the very question they are not ready for. And the wife runs away.

From the Author: I imagine how they will take revenge on their wife for this at night in bed🤣

The day was surprisingly quiet. There were rarely moments of complete silence in their house, but now, for a few minutes, everything froze. Mydei was sitting in a chair, sorting through some documents, when his son and daughter, as always, quietly crept up to him.

- Dad? - the eldest spoke up. Mydei did not even look up.

- Mm?

- How do babies appear?

The pen in his fingers stopped. The air in the room became somehow... dense.

Mydei slowly raised his head, only to see the door to the next room quietly close. A very familiar figure literally evaporated from sight. He narrowed his eyes.

- Your mother... left me alone?

His son and daughter nodded in unison. He sighed heavily.

Here it is. The test for which, despite all the years of preparation for politics and battles, no one had prepared him. Midey put the documents aside, clasping his fingers in a lock.

— Children… — he began, choosing his words, — when… two people…

The youngest daughter, sitting on the floor, rocked forward impatiently, her eyes wide.

— Let's not use complicated words!

He closed his eyes. Gods, why did they throw him into this battle alone?

— When two… love each other… very much…

— Well, yes, — the son nodded. — And then what?

Mydei looked towards the closed door. He knew his wife was standing behind it, probably holding her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing.

- Then, - he drawled slowly, - magic appears...

- Wow! - his daughter exclaimed in admiration.

- What magic? - his son narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Mydei felt sweat run down his back.

- Complex magic. Very complex. Only adults can use it.

- Do you own it?

- Of course.

- Will you show me? - he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

- Later. When you're older.

- Hmmm... - his son was clearly not happy with the answer, but fortunately his sister was already distracted by something else. Mydei felt relieved, but then the door opened slightly, and he heard a muffled chuckle. He turned sharply, his gaze promising revenge.

But his beloved had already run away. The battle was lost.

— Dad, how do babies come about?

Anaxa looked up from his book and saw his daughters, the eldest and the youngest, staring at him curiously. At the same moment, he caught a movement to the side: his wife, who was standing next to him, took a step back. Then another. Then, like a shadow, she quickly turned and... disappeared behind the door. He saw the edge of her clothes flash around the corner, and then he heard quick but quiet footsteps down the hall.

"...Are you serious?"

Taking a deep breath, Anaxa put the book down and focused on his daughters, who were impatiently awaiting an answer.

— How... Do babies come about? — he repeated slowly, as if checking to make sure he had heard correctly.

— Well, yes! Mom said you would explain everything! — the youngest declared happily. A tense silence filled the air.

Of course. It was a trap. He knew his wife was somewhere around the corner, perhaps even hiding behind a bookcase, barely holding back her laughter.

Anaxa closed his eyes briefly, considering how to handle this situation with dignity. If he started a long lecture on biological processes, they would definitely lose interest. If he said something evasive, they would still ask more questions.

Finally, he opened his eyes and said calmly:

- It's a complex process that requires precise calculation, compatibility and... certain conditions.

- What conditions? - the elder one immediately asked. Anaxa thought about it.

- Well... For example, trust and consent of the parties are necessary, - he began carefully. - And also a special closeness that helps create new life.

- Closeness? How so?

He cursed mentally.

- Well...

And at that moment a quiet laugh was heard from the corridor. Anaxa slowly turned his head towards the door.

- ...You won't get far, - he said quietly, but expressively enough. His wife immediately jumped up and, laughing, disappeared into the depths of the house.

The daughters, not noticing anything, continued to look at him in anticipation. Anaxa sighed.

- Good. Then let's start with the basics of biology...

The house was filled with the familiar, cozy noise of the children playing in the back room and their father, a male amphoraeus, sitting in the living room, leafing through notes from the last council. Everything was going as usual until suddenly one of the children ran out of the room and stopped right in front of him.

- Dad, how did we appear?

Phainon froze, gritting his teeth. He looked up and saw how his wife, standing by the door, changed her expression from surprised to extremely guilty in just a second... and then simply turned around and hurried away.

Before he could even call her, the door slammed behind her. Betrayal.

Phainon took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure.

- Well... it's... - he cleared his throat. The child looked at him with genuine curiosity. He was still a baby, but already smart enough to understand that adults usually did not want to answer such questions.

Phainon looked out the window, where his wife had disappeared out of sight. He knew full well that she had simply left him to deal with this alone. He turned back to the child, forcing a smile.

- You know... it's a long story, - the boys sat cross-legged on the floor.

- We have time, - Phainon ran a hand over his face in frustration.

- Okay. Then let's start with the basics...

He tried to explain as evasively as possible, but with each new phrase the child only frowned more.

- So, you want to say that you transferred some kind of... energy to mother?

- In a sense...

- And then she "shaped" me?

- You could say that.

The child looked at him suspiciously.

- But then why did Anaxa's teacher say that children are born when parents...

- Enough, no! - Phainon raised his hand, interrupting the reasoning before it went too far. The child puffed out his cheeks in offense.

- Well, can you at least say whether it hurts or not?

Phainon thought about it.

- For me? No. But for your mother...

He suddenly realized where this conversation was leading.

- So, mom suffered because of us?!

Phainon felt a cold sweat run down his back. If his boys went to his wife with this question now, he was in for a serious talk. The boys nodded to each other and jumped to their feet.

- We'll ask Mom, she'll explain better!

- No-no-no, wait!

Phainon rushed after her, realizing that he might have just made the situation worse.

[knight-a3]

Heavenbound AU

Masterpost

Angel Dust "Angie"

So I can avoid confusion between Angel and angels, his stage name is Angel Dust but he goes by Angie casually.

Side note: I'm too ace for this guy, yikes. Don't mind me clutching my pearls.

Spider family:

More notes under the cut to reduce clutter. There's info about the whole Spider family and some info about the Mafia as well.

Angie's redesign took me a while to nail down. I looked at other people's designs for inspiration, but nothing felt right. I wanted to give his head shape more structure, but it's too iconic to significantly change. Many people added spider fangs but I think they always look too cluttered and ugly. I also wanted the right balance of masculine and feminine for his outfit.

I am not a fan of heterochromia in character design, unless there is a reason or it's used sparingly. Angie's design is complicated enough with the gold tooth, extra eyes and arms, and body patterns that the heterochromia would just be too much.

Instead of giving him fangs that jut out like a real spider, I chose to just give him a main pair of fang-like teeth, while the rest are smaller.

It didn't make sense to me why he's able to retract his tertiary set of arms, beyond simplifying for animation, but I also do not want to manage all of them all the time, so I'm keeping that little ability. I'm justifying it with the idea that he was only ever somewhat interested in the family business, so he had less of a hand in it than his Pop or Arackniss(both of which cannot retract their extra limbs at all). I also wanted the sets of arms to have a hierarchy in how he uses them. Also didn't like the shoulders canon gives his secondary arms. They look weird to me.

The main set has 5 fingers on each hand and are relatively normal, because they're the equivalent of his human arms. The secondary set is a little smaller and a little more bug-like, with 4 fingers. The tertiary/retractable set are smaller and have 3 fingers.

I tried giving him a spider butt, but I couldn't wrap my head around how he would wear any type of pants. Not that he would be opposed to going around nude, but I just wasn't interested in that.

Casual:

I remember reading somewhere that Angel likes to dress more comfy rather than provocatively outside of work. So I decided his work outfits are the skimpy, sexy stuff. His main outfit is his typicall out-in-the-town fashionable stuff, which tends to cover him up more(gotta pay for those goods). And lounging clothes are just purely for comfort.

Main outfit-

I really wanted something that alluded to his mobster background. He may not really be involved of all that now, but it's still a part of him and that would linger. For as much as he modernizes, he's still a product of his time. Anyway, that's why I gave him pinstripe pants and a blazer.

I didn't want to lean too far into either masculine or feminine styles. He is undoubtedly feminine, but he was raised in an environment where suits and violence was the fashion. I actually searched for 40s gangster costumes for women, counting on the fact I'd find the silly sexy costumes so I could get ideas for a more feminine spin of the classic mobster.

I tried a boob window shirt for awhile, but it didn't let me show enough chest fluff. So I traded it for a V neck, which can work for both masculine and feminine styles.

Eventually I settled on a crop top blazer, since it gives a sort of suit jacket vibe while being feminine. I preferred the short gloves from the pilot, at least on his main arms, and used the longer style from the show for his secondary arms.

In canon, his "skin" color and the white of his clothes just don't have enough contrast. So I used more pink, and had the color of his fluff be a different hue than his shirt. I liked the stripes on his jacket before, but I didn't want to add any more complexity, especially when I already committed to the pinstriped pants.

Overall, I like this outfit for him. Maybe that has something to do with my personal tastes, but I think it suits him.

Body markings:

He wasn't a star until Val came around in the 70s, so he wouldn't have been quite so glam before that. He still had more mobster habits. I used his older, pre-pilot, Zoophobia design as inspiration, which used a low saturated purplish color. I thought it struck a nice balance between his mobster roots, and his later glam style.

I wanted to make the pattern something easy for me to remember. The heart design got pushed lower down because I needed more room for his chest fluff. His hands don't have anything because I didn't like how it looked with his lounge clothes. The stripes on his arms reference the stripes on his canon, pilot, and pre-pilot jackets. The stripes on his legs represent garters(suspenders that hold up socks or stockings).

Human- Anthony "Tony"

Many human versions of him that I've seen make him look too modern. I think they would absolutely work for a modern human au, but not for the 1940s. So this is my take on what he would have looked like while he was alive. The Mafia is almost exclusively Italian, and overwhelmingly Southern Italian/Sicilian. Sicily was settled by the Greeks during the antiquity period, so many people there have Greek ancestry. The vast majority had dark hair and a tanner complexion(less than 7% are blonde in modern day). Northern Italy has more variety, with up to 25% blondes in modern day. I find it unlikely that an Italian-American mobster would have such light blonde hair(darker blonde, maaaaybe). I found only a couple of a blonde mobsters, and the pictures still look pretty dark. I just believe he would have had a more typical Mediterranean appearance: naturally dark hair and olive-toned skin, rather than the fanon platinum blonde more typical of Scandinavian areas.

Hair coloring in the 40s was always done professionally, and primarily used by women, and they usually didn't want it to be obvious. Bleached hair on a man(especially with naturally dark hair) would be far too much to maintain discreetly. He hadn't publicly embraced his feminine side while he was alive. His family was Catholic, and being gay was a no-no. But murder was okay for some reason. Don't question the mobster logic.

His brother and sister knew he was gay, parents did not. Arackniss was too tired to care, and Molly was supportive. She would take him to be her "bodyguard" when she would go out and do fun things, but it was partly an excuse she provided for him to do gay things.

Angie had mixed feelings about his participation in the mob. Sometimes it was fun, other times he'd really rather be partying. But he was a made man and swore an oath of loyalty. He can't just back out.

He spent his free time with drugs, guns, and hot guys. Then died of drug overdose in his early-mid 30s in 1947.

He wasn't publicly out as gay until Hell. His parents hated it and basically disowned him when they found out. But why should Angie care at this point? He's already in Hell. So he just parted ways with them(technically the oath of loyalty ends at death. It's not like the Mafia can really kill him for leaving now, since they all just regenerate anyway) and has kept in sporadic contact with his siblings. They aren't close anymore.

Spider Family:

Ma and Pops were mostly because I wanted to play with character design. And since they have no official designs, I had more room to play with it.

The whole family became spiders because they were involved with the "web of crime" that is The Mafia. Family relation does not automatically mean sinners will look similar. They usually don't.

Pops (real name Enrico, the Italian version of Henry. Nickname "Big Cig". Almost every mobster listed on wikipedia had a nickname) inherited the position of mob boss from a relative. I'm not thinking hard about historically accurate crime families, so this is a fictional family that we will pretend had a significant presence. He died not long after Anthony, in the early 1950s in his mid 60s via gang violence. He never managed to get to the same level of power after his death. He's a minor Overlord at best, but does hold some influence.

In Zoophobia, Angel and Arackniss had a dad named Henroin. A play on "heroin". So when considering a real name for him, I searched for a variant of Henry that sounded more Italian. I designed him before I knew he had a design, but I wasn't exactly impressed by Henroin's design, so I totally ignored it anyway.

Design-wise, I wanted to go for a stereotypical mob boss vibe, and it lends itself well to the more bulky, crustacean look. The resemblance to Mr. Waternoose was unintentional. He cannot retract any extra limbs.

Spider traits- I wanted to give everyone varying degrees of spider traits, partially determined by their level of Mob involvement and how dangerous they are. Pa is venomous(through his clawed hands), has super strength(because spiders are proportionally strong compared to their size), can super jump(cuz jumping spiders is the theme), and can summon a couple of guns. He's too large to crawl on walls and can't spin webs.

Ma was always at Pop's side, helping with the less violent aspects like finances. She did her share of poison murders as well. Ma died alongside Pop and is still at his side. She's arguably the more dangerous of the two at this point. She looks easy to take advantage of, but it turns out she has potent venom.

I didn't have anything canon to go off of, so she's technically an OC. I haven't put a ton of thought into her name, but I think I'll just go with Maria. Molly is named after her, I guess.

Design- Had to go with a femme fetale mob wife. The hourglass motif is because of her venomous nature, and not for any husband-killing. She can retract her extra limbs, because she is more dangerous than she initially seems.

Spider traits- she's more venomous than Pa(through her extra limbs), can wall crawl and super jump with her extra limbs, and spin webs(to ensnare prey. I think it might come from her hair bun and/or mouth, but I don't want to think too hard about it.). She's actually the more dangerous of the two, partially because she appears less threatening, and partially because the way her extra limbs are set up gives her more reach and agility. She cannot summon guns, and she doesn't have super strength.

Arackniss (real name is Giovanni, Italian version of John. Goes by Jon. Nicknamed "Little Cig", "Don Jon") worked as the underboss until Pa died, then took over as mob boss, making sure Molly was taken care of. He died in a shootout with police in the 1960s. He was around 50ish. He is on speaking terms with their parents, and sometimes works with them. He's tired and very addicted to coffee and cigarettes.

Apparently an old QnA revealed his real name to be Jonathan. Not sure if it's still true, but I didn't find anything more reliable. I found no examples of any historical mobster named Jonathan, despite there being many many Johns/Giovannis.)

Design- I wanted him to be unable to retract limbs, unlike Angie, but also wanted to avoid drawing all of them. So I used his overcoat to cover them, and he habitually keeps his hands in his pockets. Again, he can't retract any limbs because he was heavily involved with the mob. I changed his eyes from red to yellow, because I felt the yellow suited him better and reduces the overuse of red in general.

Spider traits- He can wall crawl, has super strength(which most don't expect because he's pretty scrawny), has super jump, and can summon guns. He cannot spin webs, and his venom is non-lethal and inflicted via bite(which isn't super useful to him).

Anthony/Tony "Wild Tony" was a soldier in the Mafia. He could have been a Capo(caporegime) if he was more committed. But he had a tendency to party and goof off. Technically, membership of the mob ends through death. Being the first to die, he was separated from the mob and didn't care to recommit. Angie partied hard and enjoyed gun violence, until Valentino came along. Valentino swept him off his feet with promises of fame, fortune, and love, convincing Angie to sell his soul.

Design- already covered most notes, but for organization: he can retract one set of extra limbs because he was involved with the mafia, but he was lower level.

Spider traits- He has less than the previous three. So he can super jump, spin webs(via mouth...he can make it kinky), and summon guns. He technically can wall crawl, but not for very long, and he usually uses it for things like pole dancing. He is not venomous at all, and does not have super strength.

In canon, Molly is in heaven, but I don't find it likely because of how the Mafia works, so she's in Hell now. (Real name is Marietta, which is an Italian version of Mary, and Molly is a nickname)She was the spoiled daughter and knew about the family's criminal activity. She knew, profited, and didn't care. She's guilty by association. Anyway, I'm gonna say she died about 10 years after Anthony, approx 1957, around the age of 40. Haven't thought too hard about how she died. Then she probably went and found some powerful, hot guy to sell her soul to. Not sure.

Design- I was going to give her an extra set of legs, but I couldn't wrap my head around the anatomy of it and just decided to stick with extra arms. She can retract all her limbs because she was "hands off" with the mafia.

Spider traits- she has the fewest because she was the least involved with the mafia. Aside from the obvious physical traits, she can only spin webs(because it is symbolically more domestic. Also via ponytail and/or mouth, but I don't want to think hard about it). She cannot wall crawl, or super jump, has no venom or super strength.

The Mob:

The Mafia is very patriarchal, so all members are men, as women were never formally initiated. But women were still significantly involved in a variety of ways. Most often by instilling mafia culture to the kids, drug trafficking, finances, or economics. Some helped as launderers, couriers, shills(con artist), drug traffickers, informants, and other typically non-violent roles. Some acted as proxies for their husbands in prison(which is becoming increasingly common in modern times).

Quick chart for Mafia organization, via the FBI.

Simple rundown of terminology because I didn't know the difference between Mob and Mafia, and I've now done too much research to not write it down in a relevant place:

mob- a group of people, usually disorderly

gang- crime group, ranging from loosely organized street gangs to structured syndicates.

syndicate- group of individuals or organizations that unite for a common goal. Can be legal or illegal.

cartel- (type of syndicate) a group of individuals or organizations that collude to control a business market via supply and demand. Can be legal or illegal.

The Mafia- originated in Sicily. Ethnically Italian gangs, referred to as "families" that may or may not have actual familial relationships. Characterized by a distinct hierarchal structure.

The Mob- the American extension of The Mafia. (ie. it's the same thing)

The Commission- the alliance of the various Mafia/Mob families. Older generation members, called "Mustache Petes", only worked with fellow Italians, sometimes even only Sicilians.

The National Crime Syndicate- multi-ethnic alliance of various criminal organizations. Most prominent being The Mafia/The Commission and Jewish syndicates.

All somewhat organized crime groups are gangs. Crime syndicates have a higher level of organization, and cartels deal in specific businesses. Eventually the terms mafia and mob were applied to other ethnic gangs that operated similarly. Such as the "Jewish Mob" and "Russian Mafia". But THE Mafia and THE Mob refers to Italian gangs.

(Jan 28, 2025- fixed the tags) (Jan 31, 2025- added a couple more notes about his human design, particularly the hair color)

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 4

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: ~2.4k

cw: angst, flirty rafayel but he’s suspicious, em and reader argue but make up, reader wears a dress, existentialism, nero’s at the beginning and he’s really shy, implied stalking, existentialism part 2, envy, idk reader is having a crisis in every part i feel like you know the drill by now

Synopsis: You’re getting used to life in Linkon, used to the Hunter’s Association working alongside Nero, used to coming home with Em. You’re slightly panicked about your interactions with Zayne and Xavier, but as long as you don’t meet any other Love Interests, it should be fine, right? Just one problem: you and Em were invited to a certain artist’s newest exhibit, and he seems interested in something more than explaining his vision.

author’s note: I love writing Rafayel so much he’s so fun! I’m really looking forward to the next part with a certain crow. I’m trying to slowly escalate things, am I doing a good job? Eh, we’ll see. I’m trying not to pit Em and Reader against each other but I also have to create some sort of tension between them for it to make sense soooo oh well. I still don’t know how many parts this will be or how I’m gonna end it :( let me know if y’all have any ideas, ending or just random plot points! You can send an ask or leave a comment <3

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa

Series Masterlist

“Hey, Nero, what do you think of this dress?” You turned your phone around to show him a picture of you in a flattering navy dress. It showed more of your body than the clothes you frequently wore to the Association, which clearly caught Nero by surprise given the dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Uh, it’s very…” he stuttered as his cheeks grew redder and redder. He finally glanced away from you and the picture. “You look very pretty,” he muttered.

You turned the phone back around, looking at the picture yourself. “Do you think it’s alright for a fancy art exhibit? I don’t want to look out of place,” you explained.

Nero shook his head softly. “You look perfect.” His eyes widened. “I mean, it’s perfect! I didn’t— I wasn’t— I’m not flirting with you!” He dropped his face into his hands. “I’m sorry.” His words were muffled.

You laughed, causing him to turn his head and peek at you through his hands. “It’s alright, Nero. And thank you.” You smiled, and he looked back away. You stood up, ruffling his hair as you walked away. “You’re so cute, Nero.” You heard him make a small squeak of surprise before you shut the door.

Quickly making your way through the Hunter’s Association, you dodged carts and hunters in different sections. Research, medic, combat, until finally you reached the rows of desks and cubicles belonging to the Hunters.

The layout of the Hunter’s Association was much harder to learn than your apartment. Which made sense, of course. An entire corporation is obviously more complex than a simple two bedroom apartment.

It was unnecessarily complicated, though, you thought. Research was so secluded from the rest of the employees, and the setup for Hunters was so messy. You understood that they weren’t at their desks often, instead off on missions, but it was still ridiculous.

Luckily, Em’s desk was easy to find; Just look for the smaller claw machine plushies she proudly displayed. Catching sight of Artsy Birb, you weaved through desks and Hunters alike before standing in front of Em. You drummed your fingers on her desk, waiting for her to finish typing before you spoke. When she stopped and looked at you, you took it as your cue.

“So, about this art exhibit tonight,” you began.

“Oh, yeah!” Em smiled. “I think it starts at around eight o’clock. Something about the night emphasizing the beauty of the art or whatever.” She waved her hand carelessly. “We can get dinner before hand! It’s been a while since we had a fancy night out,” she said excitedly.

You grinned. “Alright, but I don’t know if I can afford too fancy.”

“I know,” Em groaned. “Our humble hunters’ salary can barely get us our dresses for tonight.” She rolled her eyes.

“Do you think we need to leave early? How far away is this exhibit?” you asked.

Em shrugged noncommittally. “It shouldn’t take too long. I don’t think we’ll need to leave early.”

It was 6:00 by the time you left the Association.

It took the both of you around an hour to get ready despite rushing.

It was 7:20 by the time you left the apartment.

“I knew we should have left earlier,” you muttered.

Em scoffed. “Well, why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re the one who knew where we had to go!” Your hands tightened against the steering wheel. “Why wouldn’t I trust your judgment?”

Em huffed, looking out the passenger window. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

You sighed, making another turn. Em looked at you hesitantly, A few minutes passed in silence.

“I’m sorry!”she blurted out.

You glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. “I am, too,” you agreed.

“No, you were right. I shouldn���t have gotten mad.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“You had every right to, though.” Her shoulders slumped. “Do you hate me now?” She looked to you with wide eyes.

“No,” you murmured. “Bonds can’t be so easily broken.”

The crash of waves could barely be heard over the loud chatter of the exhibition. Moonlight poured in from the windowed ceilings, casting an ethereal light on the paintings displayed.

When you’d first arrived, you hovered around Em. You let her take control of social situations like she always did, offering polite smiles and nods whenever you were briefly addressed. Although she didn’t know much about art, she certainly knew people. She gracefully navigated each interaction, and you felt like you were scrambling to catch up, trying to not be left behind.

You weren’t sure when exactly you’d gotten separated, but you managed to find a part of the exhibit that didn’t receive as much traffic. There were only a handful of people within sight, each in their own worlds. You weren’t approached, weren’t tugged along to be introduced to anyone knew, weren’t pressured to socialize. You felt your the pressure in your chest ease as you observed the swirl of colors on the canvas before you.

The canvas, despite being startling in size, was one of the smaller ones on display. You suspected that was why there weren’t as many people gathered around it as some of the other, larger paintings. It wasn’t as eye-catching, didn’t take up as much space as some of the others.

Something you understood more than you’d like to admit.

It was beautiful, though, blues and pinks mixing and mingling in perfect harmony. There were flashes of brighter colors here and there, like the deep red interspersed throughout. You knew nearly all of the paintings here depicted the sea, but there was something different about this one. You didn’t think it was the ocean, but something else.

Something familiar. Something mysterious.

“Do you like that one?” A voice came from behind you.

You turned, breath catching as you immediately caught sight of purple hair. You tilted your chin to meet his eyes, a similar swirl of blue and pink to the painting in front of you.

He was taller than you expected. You’d known Xavier and Zayne were tall, and they certainly acted like it, but there was something about him that didn’t seem to carry that height. Like he tried to make himself smaller, easier to fit.

Against your better judgment, you smiled, offering a slight nod.

Maybe it’s best not to say much this time.

He nodded approvingly. “So do I. Haven’t seen many people stop in front of it, though.” He stepped closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as you both faced the painting. He leaned closer to your ear. “I’m Rafayel, by the way.”

You swallowed thickly. “I know.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean—” You cursed yourself internally for not just introducing yourself. “It’s just that your friends with my roommate, so I know who you are,” you explained.

He nodded in understanding. “I know who you are, too.” When he caught sight of your widened eyes, he chuckled. “What kind of friend would I be to Em if I didn’t even know who her roommate was?”

It sounded like such a casual comment, not something to linger on, but you knew: He knew who you were because he’d been stalking Em. It was a plot point in Love and Deepspace, how had you forgotten that?

And just how much did he know?

“Are you looking for her?” you asked. “Because I won’t be much help. I lost her a while ago.”

Rafayel shook his head softly. “No, she’s somewhere over there.” He made a vague motion towards the main room of the exhibit. “I think she was talking to Thomas. For some reason.” You didn’t notice his watchful eyes on you as you laughed at his exaggerated expression. “No, I’m much more interested in you,” he murmured with a teasing smile.

Despite your internal screams, you laughed lightly.

What does he mean interested?

You wouldn’t put it past him to try and get you on his side to get some more personal information on Em, what with the whole stalker thing and everything, but would he really need your help with that?

One thought came to your mind, though: Zayne and Xavier.

You knew Rafayel wore many masks, so he could just be charming as a means to an end, but the thought of the other Love Interests gave you pause. Something was clearly affected because of your presence here. They seemed more comfortable with you than with Em, but why was that?

Why should someone from an entirely different world forge a greater connection than a love across lifetimes?

You couldn’t deny it, though. There was something so comfortable when interacting with each of the Love Interests. You were immediately put at ease, like you were talking to a friend you’d known for years and not a man you’d only just been introduced to. It was as Zayne said: Like I’ve loved you before.

“Helloooo?” Rafayel lightly knocked on your forehead, bringing you back to the conversation in front of you.

“Sorry,” you muttered, averting your eyes. “Shouldn’t you be talking to patrons or something?”

“Nah,” he dismissed carelessly. “They only like my paintings because they’re popular.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. The ends of his lips threatened to curve upwards. “I’d much prefer to talk to someone that actually enjoys it and understands it.” Though he kept his eyes on you, Rafayel directed your gaze back to the canvas. “This piece is different from anything else I’ve painted. I always paint what I feel, but that afternoon I felt something shift. I wanted to paint the feeling.”

You nodded, enthralled by his explanation. The way he spoke was mesmerizing, intriguing, like he always aimed to leave you wanting more. “What happened that afternoon?”

“I actually don’t know,” he chuckled. “It was about a week ago. Or maybe it was two? It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged. “It must have been around lunchtime that I just felt something change. Like the universe was molding into something different.”

An afternoon a week or two ago?

Your chest tightened again.

That was when you first arrived in Linkon.

What if the universe was molding into something different to fit you?

“There you are!” Em’s voice rang through the exhibit, bright and cheery. You had to hold yourself back from groaning as she approached. Now was the perfect time for you to get more information from a Love Interest, but it was as if Em have a gravitational pull to each of them. She was constantly around them if she could be, unless she decided she didn’t want them.

They bent to her will, something you’d relate to but couldn’t fully understand. Why would they willingly have their hearts crushed? Each man knew at least one other Love Interest, knew there was competition, so why were they all so certain they would win her love? What would happen to those that didn’t?

“I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Em smiled, looking between you and Rafayel.

“Actually, we just met.” Rafayel slung a loose arm around you, a movement that seemed so practiced you barely even flinched. Em, however, did, something almost unreadable passing through her eyes. You tried to place it. Was it jealousy? Confusion? Whatever it was, it was gone nearly as soon as it appeared.

Em nodded, silence lingering for a moment too long. “Well, I think we should be getting home. It’s been a long week and I’m tired.” She made a show of sagging her shoulders, earning a laugh out of Rafayel that sounded ever so slightly forced to you.

You were probably just imagining it, right?

Em grabbed your arm, pulling you out of Rafayel’s grasp and next to her. He stumbled slightly but quickly recovered, his blinding smile appearing.

“Here, let me get your phone number.” At your raised eyebrow, he explained, “In case there’s something about Em we need to talk about.”

How were you supposed to argue with that? You took his phone without saying a word, trying to remember your number as you typed it. Finding yourself typing in your number from your other life, you quickly erased it, wondering how much of that you would remain after you got used to this life.

You handed it back, muttering a quick goodbye as Em swept you away. Rafayel watched you both as you left, his smile slowly dropping until you were out of sight.

Em drove home, a sort of tension in her that neither of you addressed. The ride was silent for the most part, save for some small bits of conversation here and there.

Why couldn’t you click with Em when you could with the Love Interests? What was so different?

The apartment was as dark as the night sky when you entered, flicking on the light and kicking your shoes off. You checked the clock.

Nearly midnight.

“I’m so glad we don’t have work tomorrow,” you groaned.

“I know!” Em kicked off her own heels, turning around in front of you. “Could you unzip me please?”

You murmured a quick yes and helped her out of her gown, thankful when she helped you with yours. There was an unspoken intimacy between you two that you’d notice grow as you spent more time together. It’d been so long since you’d had a friend so close by, you’d almost forgotten how to act.

As you slipped on a worn pair of sweatpants, your phone chimed with an unknown number.

hey cutie

dun forget me

if you do ill blow bubbles at you

Rafayel.

You stared at the message for what felt like forever.

How were you supposed to respond?

And who was he calling cutie?

You could hear Em in the living room, giggling over the phone. One of her reverse harem, you figured. Saying something sweet and flirty and acting dumb about it.

You loved Em. You did. It was hard not to. But there was still something so unnerving about her. She was made to be liked as a main character. It was all a script. Nothing felt genuine. Nothing felt real.

And then there was the envy.

Just like liking her, it was hard not to be envious of her. She had everything. A career, recognition, and so much love.

You knew she suffered, that there was so much trauma behind her smile, but it still resulted in so much happiness.

How come yours couldn’t?

Yours, that stuck behind you like a shadow, constantly looming.

A constant reminder.

You weren’t experimented on as a child, didn’t lose your best friend and your guardian in early adulthood. Your trauma wasn’t worse than Em’s, you thought.

So how come it affected you so much?

Where was your happiness?

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[bed-chemist]

Smoking 🍃 with vinnie smut cause he’s so pookie bear (make it rough too please 💀💀)

❝FMB❞ - vinnie hacker x reader

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask. FMB means f⋆ck me back. hopefully it's rough enough. this is my first smut post so i didn't want to make it too too rough, just fyi. unedited so ignore any mistakes. i hope yall enjoy. ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

─⋆♡ summary: you and vinnie have a complex relationship. it all comes to a head when you become bold enough to confront him post-blunt.

─⋆♡ warnings: overstimulation, softdom!vinnie, smut, fluff towards the end, tiny bit of angst, 18+ black!writer, language, alcohol, drugs, D!NC, physical descriptors (brief), choking, spitting, slight exhibitionism if you squint, claiming, rough smut, squirting, anal play, unprotected sex (i do not condone irl, wrap before you tap).

⋆word count: 3.9k ⋆ masterlist ⋆

The loud bass of music floats in the background as I tap through Snapchat stories on my phone. The couch next to me dips and when I turn, I see Vinnie has joined me.

He doesn’t speak to me before pulling out a blunt and sparking it. As is, me and Vinnie’s relationship was complicated. We started off as friends, then smoke buddies. But the more we smoked together, the more we felt for each other. Or at least, I fell for him.

We had kissed and made out, but we’ve never had sex. After a few dates, I was becoming restless. The frustration of his mixed signals got the best of me. Now in the darkness of the crowded room, I’ve become bold enough to confront him.

I watch him as he inhales and exhales the smoke like a chimney. He seemingly notices my intense stare and stops. “Did you need something?” he asks with an attitude.

You can practically feel steam whistling out of your ears from how fuming your brain is right now. “Yeah actually. Give that to me,” I snap, pointing at his blunt.

He shrugs, ashing the blunt on the coffee table. “Okay,” he concedes, passing me the joint.

Letting the smoke dance in my lungs, I choke it out slowly. Now that the weed is hitting, I decide now is the time. “Vinnie, are you still interested in me?” I ask him abruptly.

He chuckles and takes the blunt from me. “Oh, baby. Of course I fucking am. Why would you even ask me that?” he shoots back with an eyebrow raised.

Frowning, I pick at my cuticles out of nervousness. “Because we go on dates, we kiss, but we’ve never had sex. I just don’t know what you want any more,” I confess, standing from the couch in a huff. 

Of course, I want to take things further. But I’m not sure if he wants me anymore when he barely touches me.

He stops me from moving any further, tugging my hand. I grudgingly turn around, looking down at him. “Because, doll. We haven’t had the sex talk yet,” he discloses, rubbing his free hand up and down my thigh.

I roll my eyes and scoff, snatching the blunt out of his hands to take a hit. He places his hands on my hips, watching me intensely. “What do you mean by ‘sex talk’? I’m not 5,” I ask after blowing out a toke.

He stands until he’s staggering high towers over me. “I mean…” he pushes lightly, backing me into the wall so I’m trapped between his body and the drywall. “I want to know what you like, what you don’t like, and what you’ll beg for before I feel you cumming on my cock,” he whispers in my ear, licking a stripe up my neck afterward. 

My head tips back in a moan, which makes him as hard as a rock. “Fuck, baby. Do you see what you do to me? I want nothing more than to make you feel good, in the best way that I can, for the rest of my life.” he presses his body into mine, slowly kissing up my neck.

One of the partiers comes up behind Vinnie and taps him on the shoulder. He ignores them, waving them off with the rest of the blunt. His hand moves to the inside of my thigh and he rubs me so close that I know he can feel the inside of my legs shake. “Should I take care of you right here?” he bites my neck, and I whimper, pulling his hair.

Vinnie pulls back from me, piercing a hole into my eyes. “Please?” I beg, gnawing on my lip.

He uses the other hand and wraps it around my throat, effectively restricting my breathing. He tilts my head to the side. “Do you think you deserve it?” he whispers against my lips with his eyebrow raised. 

Struggling, I lightly nod my head in his firm grip. “Yes, Vinnie,” I squeak out, and he gives me one last squeeze on the throat before grabbing my wrist and yanking me through the crowd.

Bodies brush past me as Vinnie drags me up the steps to his room. “Wait, where are we going?” I ask, confused. He just asked if I needed to be taken care of right there and then... I did say yes.

“You think I’m gonna let everyone watch me fuck you?” he scoffs.

Once we got the sex talk out of the way, Vinnie makes quick work to get me undressed. I moan into the darkness of the room as Vinnie leaves love bites down my neck, only breaking the contact to lift my tank top over my head. He pauses his movements to take in the black lacy bralette I'm wearing. “Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, then smashes his lips back onto mine. 

He slams me against his closed bedroom door before slowly dropping down onto his knees. Watching him sink to the ground has an involuntary giggle leaving my lips. “Vinnie, I didn’t think you were going to actually-” he cuts me off, spinning me around so my ass is facing him.

Suddenly, an echoing smack verberates off the walls and my ass cheeks are on fire. Yelping, I sink my teeth into my bottom lips, trying to muffle the noise I’m making.

He slowly inches his hands up my legs until my skirt is fully pushed up to my stomach. His fingers meet my panties, and he runs my fingers over them, seemingly savoring every last moment. “Did you wear these for me, sunshine?” He hooks one finger under one side, pulling it back and making the elastic snap around my hips.

I reach out to support myself on anything to keep my knees from buckling. “No,” I joke, and he bends my knees a bit.

He rubs calming circles into the back of my thighs with his thumbs. “Don’t need you collapsing on my baby,” he informs me.

Taking both sides in his hands, he rips the fabric in half and shreds it off my body like paper. “Shame. I would’ve let you keep them.” 

Gasping, I look down and watch them fall to the ground. He palms my ass, spreading my cheeks further apart. “Bend over just a little bit more, baby,” he instruct, kissing my ass on both sides. 

Slowly shifting in his grasp, I whine as I bend over. I’m desperate for him, all over me. Filling every hole over and over again until I’m screaming for help.

He hovers his mouth over my pussy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he praises me, running his pointer finger up and down my folds to collect my wetness.

“Let me tell you something, sunshine,” he grumbles, rubbing his fingers in circles on my puffy, swollen nub. “There's absolutely nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Do you understand?” he looks up at me, awaiting my response.

Unable to focus, I just nod my head.

“You have to use your words, baby.” he instantly retracts his fingers from my clit bringing them into his mouth. With a pop, he pulls them out, moaning at the taste of my arousal.

I groan, throwing my head back in frustration. “Yes, I know. Just please take care of me, Vinnie,” I practically beg for the second time tonight.

He returns his fingers to my pussy, slowly rubbing around my entrance. “If you asked me to shoot myself, I would,” he growls, slowly sinking his fingers into me. Curling them downwards on every thrust, his fingers search for that spongy spot. He pulls out and thrusts into me again, and my breath quickens. “If you asked me to slit my wrists, I would.” Quickening his pace, my moans echo through the large bedroom. “You gotta stay quiet, baby. I wanna be the only one to hear those pretty moans.” 

He uses his free hand, bringing it up to my clit, rubbing fast circles on my sensitive bud. His fingers are thrusting into me at such an intense rate that I feel the world collapsing beneath me. My pussy contracts around his fingers and he groans deeply, sending a shiver up my spine. “Fuck yourself on my fingers, sunshine,” he commands, hitting my sweet spot. 

I mewl, obeying his commands, and begin rocking back into him. My orgasm starts approaching rapidly, his fingers drive into me at an unrelenting pace. When my walls flutter, he instantly slows his pace. “Not yet, baby. You can’t cum until you’re quiet.”  

Crying again, I bring my hand up to muffle the sound successfully. He applies more pressure on the quick circles he’s drawing on my clit. I arch my back again until I’m moving with his fingers just as he requested. I moan loudly, the coil in my stomach about to snap. 

He blows a quick shot of air onto my exposed clit, the chill making the coil snap. My vision turns white as I quietly moan out, "Fuck, Vinn.”

“That’s it, sunshine. Cum for me, let go,” he murmurs underneath me, and I can feel the lust dripping off his tongue as my orgasm rocks through me. The pace of his fingers doesn’t slow as he works me through my orgasm, and I hear my nails scratch against the drywall. My legs quake and my back arches slightly, my mouth opening in a silent moan. 

He slows his thrusting and pulls out of me, rising to his feet. He turns me around to face him, his eyes taking in the fucked out expression on my face. “You wanna know how good you taste, baby?” Grabbing my chin, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.

I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath and lean back into the wall. “Yes,” I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my lips, his fingers sink into my mouth. Deciding to tease him, I swirl my tongue around his digits, imagining my tongue on his cock. His fingers push back further into my throat until I gag a little, then he pulls them out. Fucking hope he’s impressed that I can take them that far without coughing.

Without another thought, I smash my lips against his, savoring the taste of my orgasm on his tongue. “God, you taste so fucking good. I could eat you forever,” he growls, moving my body back onto the bed.

He crawls on top of me and his bulge is pressed into me once again. “Vinnie, please. I need you.” I whimper into his mouth as my shaky fingers move to slowly unbutton his shirt. 

But he grabs my wrists, stopping me. “I got it, sunshine,” he laughs, then makes quick work to remove his shirt. 

I shamelessly watch as he slowly strips out of his pants and his boxers. Even though I’ve seen him naked in front of me before, he’s never fully been hard. His dick is beautiful. His swollen head is already dripping with precum, making him look good enough to deep throat. 

Vinnie slowly climbs back onto the bed and my eyes widen, realizing what’s about to happen. My breathing quickens in anticipation as he comes down to kiss me hard and deep. 

I moan into him, but my hands move to his chest to push him back as I look down, suddenly scared. “It’s too big, I don’t think it’ll fit,” I insist, crawling away from him.

He grabs my ankles, pulling me back down. “We’re gonna make it fit, baby,” he retorts, his eyes dark. 

The tip of his dick moves back and forth in between my folds, collecting wetness. I whimper, squeezing his shoulders. 

“Hey, sunshine. Look at me.” He grabs my chin until I make eye contact with him. “We can stop if you want to stop. I won't go any further,” he reassures, resting his forehead on mine.

I immediately shake my head, inhaling a sharp breath. “No, I want this–I want you. Just be careful, please.” I pull him into me for a heated kiss and tug his hair, making him groan and deepen the kiss. 

Finally, he pulls back and lines himself up near my entrance, spitting and letting the dribble collect on his base. “This is gonna hurt, so just relax for me, baby.” My legs are pushed open a little wider. 

I nod, trying to calm myself, and he laces his fingers in mine before he moves. The tip of his shaft pushes in, and I gasp at the stretch. “Shit, Vinnie,” I cry out, squeezing his hands until my knuckles turn white. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, the burn from his girth sends fire into my core. 

Immediately, he stops moving, looking into my eyes. “Do you want me to stop? I’ll stop,” he groans out. 

I bite my lip, shaking my head no. 

He kisses the corner of my eyes and whispers, “Okay, just relax for me, sunshine. I’ll try to make this quick.” He continues to sink slowly into me, bottoming out, and I wince again. To allow me to adjust to his length, he pauses his movements. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he breathes, bending down to kiss my neck. And then, he slowly starts rocking into me and the burn is replaced with a familiar warmth. 

“Oh, god. Vinnie,” I moan, releasing his hands to claw at his back for support. 

He’s hitting the perfect spot already, and he just got inside me. He continues to slowly push in and out of me, allowing me to savor the feeling of him inside me. I moan, biting on his shoulder. 

“More.” My legs are already shaking. “Give me more,” I demand, kissing up to his ear.

Pulling back, he looks at me. “Are you sure?” His hand strokes my curls.

I pull him down into a kiss, allowing my tongue to explore his mouth once more. “Yes, please. Use me, fuck me,” I beg, squirming underneath him.

Vinnie fists the sheets below my head and adjusts his position. I brace myself. “The safe word is ‘moon’, Sunshine. Use it if you need it.” He kisses my neck once more and begins driving into me at a steady, even rate. The tip of his length kisses my g-spot with each stroke. “Fuccckkkk,” he growls into my ear, and I feel myself squeezing him when the words hit my eardrums. 

“Vinnie,” I moan. 

The only sound outside of our pants and moans is the sound of his skin slapping against mine as he fucks me. He wraps his tattooed hand around my throat, leaning in for a kiss. And as if I wasn't already in heaven, he brings his fingers down to rub quick circles on my clit. 

“I’m gonna cum, doll. But I need to feel you squeezing me before I do,” he commands, and I cry as I arch into him. 

He pounds into me steadily, rocking my body into the bed. Each stroke pushes me closer and closer over the edge until I feel myself contracting around him. 

“Cum with me, sunshine,” he whispers against my lips, and it sends me over the edge. 

Arching my back and screaming, I claw at his back and bite his shoulder as my orgasm hits me like a train. Just when I thought he couldn’t get any deeper, he lifts my hips slightly. 

“Where do you want me to cum, love?” His dick kisses my cervix, and I know I’ll be bruised tomorrow. But I can’t bring myself to give a shit right now. 

He twitches inside me, and I lick a stripe up his neck. “Cum in me, Vinnie,” I whimper, and he growls into my neck. 

His seed spills inside me, his strokes becoming uneven. I moan at the feeling, and squeeze around him, milking out every drop of his cum as he paints my walls. It fills me up and I’ve never felt better after sex. 

He stills inside me, kissing me breathlessly, and takes a few moments to catch his breath. Before he pulls out, I wrap my arms around him, causing him to bury further inside me. “Stay,” I plead, tears threatening to spill over in my eyes.

He softly strokes my hair, wrapping his arm around me and slowly flipping us over so I’m on top. “Okay, sunshine. I got you. Fuck, that was the fastest I’ve ever cum before in my life,” 

Like I requested, he doesn’t pull out. Just pulls me closer into his body until I’m melting into the beautiful tattoos on his chest. His fingers begin tracing light patterns across my back. 

I sniffle, looking up at him with a small smile on my face, and he looks at me. “You okay, sunshine?” he asks, and I shift on his length a little bit. 

Sitting up to put my hands on his chest, I feel his dick twitching and growing inside me. “Yeah. Let's go again,” I giggle, bending down to kiss him. It surprises me how he’s already ready for round two, but I don’t complain. 

He groans into my mouth, wrapping his decorated arms around my waist. Slowly, I lift myself until I feel his tip threatening to slip out. I slide back down onto him, filling myself completely and moaning at the change of position. 

His hands tighten around my waist, helping me swirl my hips around. “I want you to know you’re mine, sunshine,” he groans, reaching up to play with my nipples as I moan at the feeling of him stretching me from this angle. 

I pick up my pace, bouncing on his dick until he’s hitting my perfect spot over and over again. My legs shake, and I feel my third orgasm approaching rapidly. My hand moves to his neck, squeezing it hard. I feel so fucking powerful, making myself cum with his length. 

Vinnie looks up at me with amazement in his eyes and slides his thumb in between us to apply pressure on my clit. I throw my head back and moan, still choking him. “God. You look so pretty when you moan.” 

The pace of his thumb quickens, and I topple over the edge, crashing into my third orgasm with a loud cry. I release my hand on his neck, falling forward. Vinnie removes his hand from my clit to catch me and keep from coming down on his body. He allows me to rest on his chest as he starts to fuck up into me, elongating my orgasm. 

“Vinnie,” I choke out, and my voice bounces off his walls. 

He picks up his pace, driving into me from below. “That’s it, doll. Scream my name. Let the world know who fucking owns you.” 

He pounds my body into his, and I grip his shoulders when I feel a tingling sensation on my clit. Wetness suddenly shoots out from between my legs, running down my thighs and covering his stomach. My whole body quakes, but he doesn’t slow down. 

“Fuck, sunshine. Look at the mess you made, cumming all over me.” 

My brain is on a different planet as he slows down, allowing me to glance down at the soaked sheets. He slowly pulls me off him and I wince, falling backward onto the bed. Then, Vinnie moves me so I’m laying on my side, out of the wet spot, before slowly pushing back into me, spooning me, and caressing my hair. “No one will ever fuck you ever again, for the rest of your life but me. Do you understand?” 

Slamming into me at an unrelenting pace, he bites my neck. His hand wraps around my throat, applying a bit of pressure. Every thrust sends me closer to the edge, and the only thing I register is him kissing the back of my neck. I’m so fucked, I can’t speak. I can’t think. 

“Yes,” I babble out, arching my back into him. 

All I feel is pure bliss. The room is spinning, and I feel another orgasm rapidly approaching. He nibbles a love bite into my neck, hitting my G-spot over and over again. My thighs are lifted a little higher until I see white. “Cum for me again, Sunshine. You feel so good when you squeeze me,” he mumbles into my neck.

I shake my head, and gripping his forearm that chokes me. “I can’t,” I cry, looking at the view from his room— everything is spinning. 

Vinnie increases his pace, slamming into me. “You can, and you will,” he snarls in my ear. 

I feel the tears spilling over in my eyes as he applies more pressure on my throat. The overstimulation of his dick drilling into me repeatedly sends me toppling over another edge, and I wail his name, feeling my soul leave my body. Everything feels fuzzy as his thrusts become sloppy before he lets out an animalistic grunt. I feel his dick twitch, then, shooting hot ropes into me. The heat of it makes me feel like I’m going to pass out, and I moan at the sensation. He continues to slowly thrust into me, riding out both of our orgasms. 

After we’re both spent, he buries himself deep inside me, stroking my hair and peppering kisses on my shoulder as I come down from my high. “You did so well for me, Sunshine. Fucking fantastic,” he praises.

He slowly caresses my hips as my body shakes against his. I wince as he slowly pulls out and scoots down to the bottom of the bed. Spreading my legs wide open, he watches our cum leak out of me. My swollen pussy contracts around nothing, pushing his seed out, and I hear him groan. 

He brings his fingers up to my entrance and I wince. “Shhh, Sunshine, I’m just making sure we don’t waste a drop,” he coos, stuffing his fingers into me and massaging my g-spot. 

An inevitable moan leaves my lips I arch my back to get closer to him. “You want to cum again?” He asks before leaning over to flick his tongue over her my. Crying out at the overstimulation, I shake my head. 

“Too bad, baby.” he quickly thrusts into me with his fingers, moaning at the taste of our orgasms mixing. His tongue flicks over my swollen, puffy clit. I haven’t used our safe word, and I know he’s going to keep pushing me until I say it.

Vinnie removes his tongue from my clit and he uses his other hand to collect our orgasms on his finger. The pace of his fingers slows and he begins rubbing a circle around my tight hole. He slowly pushes his finger into my ass, fucking me with both hands. 

I’m unable to control my movements as I thrash underneath him. His finders drive in and out, reaching the most delicious spot. 

“Give me one last one, Sunshine. I promise I’ll let you stop after,” he orders, and I move my hands to his hair to tug on it.

He pushes his finger further into my ass, curling it a bit more, and I snap. Neglecting his noise warning, my screams and my moans erupt through the room. He moans as he works both of my holes through what I assume is my last orgasm. 

As finally comes down, I whimper, “Moon,” and he stops and slowly pulls his fingers out, satisfied with my overstimulation. 

He crawls up my body, grabbing my face so I'm forced to look at him. “You're everything to me–perfect and mine,” he mumbles into my mouth and I wipe away the tears in my eyes. 

My brain buzzes with post-sex high. “Only for you,” I whisper into the night.

I did so well, and I am his.

[cece693]

Brooding Edward (Edward Cullen x M! Vampire Reader)

I got a comment some time ago asking for more Edward Cullen fics, so I came to deliver :) Hope you guys enjoy it.

Summary: You don't know when your dislike of Edward turned into adoration, but you did know that you didn't like how close he was getting with the human, Isabella Swan.

tags: scheming Edward, jealous reader, hater to lover, making out, Bella used as a pawn in Edward's plan, mentions of Bella x Edward

Forks was a dreary town, always dripping with rain and cloaked in mist, a far cry from the places I’d roamed over the centuries. I’d arrived here on a whim, seeking nothing more than a quiet place to blend in, disappear among the mundane, and watch as the world turned on without me. But I wasn’t completely alone here. There were others of my kind, tucked away in the dense forests.

The first time I laid eyes on Edward Cullen, I knew immediately what he was—beautiful, yes, but also cold and distant, a façade of perfection wrapped around a soul that seemed perpetually weighed down. We didn’t speak much at first, just acknowledged each other as predators passing in the same territory.

But the more I saw him, the more I realized how irritatingly complex he was.

He wasn’t like the others—his siblings, his parents—who seemed content with the life they had carved out here, blending in with humans, attending school like everything was perfectly normal. Edward. had this air of constant torment, like he was wrestling with demons none of us could see. It grated on me. The self-imposed suffering. The way he would sit in class, staring out the window like the weight of existence itself was crushing him.

I couldn’t stand it.

“Edward’s always been like that.” Alice once told me when I asked why her brother seemed more brooding than the rest of them. She smiled, almost fondly, as if his moodiness was something endearing, but I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“You mean miserable?”

“He’s complicated.” she explained, and for some reason, that word irritated me even more.

Complicated. Right.

The more I was around him, the more I was drawn to observe his every movement, his every interaction. And it only made my disdain grow. Edward had this way of pulling people in without even trying—his impossibly good looks, the air of mystery that seemed to cling to him like fog, his quiet intelligence. Everyone wanted to know him, to understand him. But he kept everyone at arm’s length.

He was a contradiction—mysterious yet aloof, compassionate yet disconnected. And I couldn’t stop watching him.

It became a sick habit of mine, this strange fascination, though I told myself it was just that. I would catch glimpses of him in the halls at school, his expression always distant, as if he were somewhere else entirely. He rarely laughed or even smiled—everything seemed so goddamn serious to him. His siblings would joke around, ease into their lives here, but Edward? He remained on the outskirts, as though he couldn’t let himself relax, couldn’t let go of whatever it was that tormented him.

There was something maddening about it.

It wasn’t until Isabella Swan came into the picture that everything shifted.

She was new, fragile, and completely unaware of the supernatural undercurrent running through Forks. But Edward saw her. And it wasn’t just passing interest. I noticed it from the beginning—the way his gaze would linger on her in class, how his jaw would tense when she got too close to any of the other students, or how he disappeared for days after their first encounter, struggling to keep himself in check.

I remember the first time I heard them talking, watching from a distance, seated in the cafeteria among the other Cullens. Edward’s voice was soft but strained, his gaze locked on hers like she was the most precious thing in the world. The intensity in his eyes, the way his entire being seemed to revolve around this human—it was unsettling.

"She’s different." he told me once when I couldn’t stop myself from asking why he was so fascinated with her.

"Different?" I echoed, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice. "She’s human, Edward. She’ll die in a blink of an eye. What happens then?" He said nothing, just stared off into the distance, as if the very idea caused him more pain than I could understand.

It was then that the slow burn of jealousy began to fester inside me, though I couldn’t name it at first. The fact that Edward, who seemed indifferent to everything, had suddenly fixated on this girl—this fragile, breakable human—made something inside me twist. I was used to seeing him as distant, untouchable, yet here he was letting his guard down for someone like her.

I wanted Edward’s gaze on me. His intensity. His focus. The realization hit me harder than I expected, and it wasn’t long before that jealousy bubbled over into anger.

One night, the tension reached a boiling point. Edward had just returned from dropping Bella off, his face drawn, like always, but with something else in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore. Satisfaction. The kind of satisfaction that came from spending time with her. The kind of satisfaction I wanted him to feel when he was with me.

“Isabella this, Isabella that.” I sneered, my voice cutting through the stillness of the forest. Edward stopped in his tracks, his expression hardening as he turned to face me.

“What’s your problem?” His tone was cold, guarded.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us, my chest tight with the jealousy and frustration I’d been holding in for too long. “My problem is that you’re throwing everything away for her. And for what? She’s nothing special, Edward.”

His jaw clenched, his golden eyes flashing dangerously. “You don’t know her. You don’t understand.”

“Understand?” I laughed bitterly. “What’s there to understand? She’s human. You’re a vampire. End of story.”

“It’s not that simple,” Edward hissed, stepping closer, his presence looming. “It’s never been that simple.”

I stared him down, anger boiling over into something sharper. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? You’re losing yourself in her. You’re forgetting who you are, what you are. She’s going to be your downfall.”

He glared at me, and I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes. His hand shot out, grabbing the front of my shirt, pulling me roughly against him. “You’re wrong.”

Before I could snap back, Edward’s lips collided with mine like a strike of lightning, fierce and demanding, with none of the hesitation I’d come to expect from him. The initial shock froze me for only a second, but then the fire that had been building inside me for so long erupted, and I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer, forcing the kiss deeper.

His body pressed hard against mine, the coldness of his skin a sharp contrast to the heat pulsing through me. This wasn’t like anything I’d imagined—there was no softness, no careful exploration—just raw, primal need. His lips left mine briefly, trailing down the line of my jaw, his breath cool against my skin as he whispered, “You think I’m hers?” His voice was low and dangerous. “I was never hers.”

I gripped his shoulders, shoving him back slightly, forcing his eyes to meet mine. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He smirked, that infuriating, knowing smirk that sent another wave of frustration and heat crashing through me. His eyes darkened, the gold-flecked with something more primal, more dangerous. “My relationship with Bella means nothing to me.”

I tried to shove him away again, but he held firm, his grip on me unyielding, his body pressing me back against the rough bark of the tree. “Bullshit,” I growled, but the anger in my voice was already fading, replaced by something I didn’t want to admit. “You’ve been obsessed with her—”

“Lies.” he interrupted, his lips hovering over mine, so close I could kiss him again if I leaned forward. “I needed her to push you, to make you feel what you’ve been ignoring for months.”

My mind reeled. “You’re saying this was all some kind of game?”

His smirk widened, but it wasn’t cruel—it was victorious. “Not a game. A plan.” His fingers trailed lightly over my collarbone, sending sparks through me, and I hated how easily he could get under my skin, how quickly he could break down the walls I’d built. “I’ve been waiting for you to realize it, to stop fighting me.”

“Fighting you? You never said a damn thing.”

“I didn’t need to. I knew you’d come to me eventually.”

The kiss that followed was harder, more desperate, and I couldn’t stop myself from pulling him closer, the fire that had been smoldering between us now raging out of control. His hands roamed over my body, each touch stoking the flames higher. I couldn’t think, his presence overwhelming every sense, every thought.

“I'm yours,” he growled against my lips, his voice rough and possessive. His hands slid under my shirt, cold fingers tracing over my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Not hers.”

The words hit me like a punch, and I grabbed his face, pulling him back just enough to meet his gaze. “Say it again.”

His eyes bored into mine, that same victorious glint dancing in their depths. “I’m not hers. I’m yours.”

[utopianparadoxist]

June Egbert, The Tao of Pranksterism, and Maid Roleplay

So we've got our first glimpse of June Egbert, shining like a star on the horizon, as of the latest upd8!

With the Warhammer of Zillyhoo at her side and the general harlequin energy of her silhouette, many are drawing comparisons to Trickster Mode, or to Nannasprite. Both of these, notably, are heavily linked to Jane.

And I'm interested in June's relationship to Jane's legacy as her ancestor, because this feels similar to ideas of classpect roleplay I've described for years. so I want to talk about it here and speculate a bit about what kind of worldview change a roleplay reading suggests might accompany June's gender transformation.

A quick bit of background for those who don't know what Class roleplay is-- It's basically the idea that a player of any class might end up roleplaying as a different class, to various degrees of success or failure, and that in Homestuck characters do so in particular when they are actively striving to live up to the legacy left by their Ancestors.

Vriska is the clearest example to argue. Early in her arc with Tavros she is actively trying to fit both him and herself into narrative roles left behind in Mindfang's journal, and in the process strives to make Tavros stronger much as Kanaya does for Eridan by giving him the wand, or Aranea herself later does to Jake.

The way she conceptualizes the endeavor emphasizes the verb "MAKE", a close synonym to the most commonly accepted Maid/Sylph verb, "Create". She kisses Tavros while wearing a fairy dress-the word Sylph originally referring to a kind of fairy. And of course she gets the dress from Kanaya, a Sylph herself.

And of course, her attempt to woo Tavros in this way is a disastrous failure. Later, when she tries to make Tavros kill her instead of kiss her--again evoking Mindfang and the Summoner's relationships--she again fails soundly, Tavros rejecting her mind suggestions and leaving her to bleed slowly to death by herself.

The reason Vriska is failing in these situations is at least partly that she is obsessively trying to be Mindfang instead of honestly coming to grip with who she really is as her own person. The way the narratives you build up in your head about who you WANT to be like distort your own self of self and lead to self-sabotage and toxic relationships is a running theme in Homestuck, and Roleplay mechanics helpfully signpost this on a mechanical Sburb Class level.

Later Aranea makes the exact same mistake as Vriska in emulating Mindfang, but fails at least partly because, as Vriska lays out, she just doesn't have enough experience doing "ruthless pirate shit"--in other words, behaving like a Thief.

But the Marquise herself poses an interesting possibility, because she seems to succeed at performing both the roles of the Thief and the Sylph. And Vriska attributes this to the fact that the Marquise is an adult, who learned to perform a role that didn't initially come naturally to her through a slow accumulation of experience.

In this way, Vriska suggests a way out of hard Classpect determinism. It *is* possible to act outside of your native Class, even to successfully incorporate the strengths and abilities of a different class entirely, but this is part of a nuanced and complicated process of personal growth and a gaining of increased complexity of perspective, experience and ability as you grow through life.

Now lets bring this focus to John. John and Jane's mutual ancestorism is explicitly tied to their shared interest in jokes and pranks. Dirk likens this to Zen, or the Tao, meaning it reflects something about their fundamental relationship to the world and approach to dealing with it and its challenges.

John invokes this connection again as he carries out the retcon, the absolute height of his impact on the plot and narrative in og Homestuck, with the retcon being literally just being a series of pranks. They're also a series of pranks he has a lot of fun with!

Even while everyone is dead and everything is completely cosmically screwed, John is able to enjoy himself as he carries on and keeps striving to Make a better future. He indulges the Zen of pranksterism in this moment, using it as a way to cope with and transcend the horrors of Paradox Space.

He's also, on a mechanical level, roleplaying a Maid.

The Maid class, like the Sylph, is associated with healing and improbable ressurection. Aradia is able to transcend her own death and act in the world as a ghost even before she God Tiers through the use of her Time-coded ghost powers. Kanaya is lethally shot and revives inexplicably as an immortal Rainbow Drinker, the only character to be immortal without even being God Tier.

This is more true of Jane than anyone, who's Maid of Life powers allow her to Make Life for herself in such a way that even after being beheaded in what should inarguably be a Just death, Jane can overpower the conditional immortality of God Tiers completely and just walk and talk around as a decapitated body and her severed head. She is Making Life for her own benefit, and quite definitely no one elses.

Jane's other major power is to offer people free resurrections, like she does in Collide. And what does John's retcon accomplish? Give Vriska a free resurrection, effectively taking a more circuitous path to achieving the same end result that comes to a Maid naturally. It's for Vriska's benefit for sure though. John is still natively a passive Heir class, and this moment represents a blurring of the lines between the roles of Heir and Maid, a moment where John's impact is not narrowly defined by just one Sburb assigned Class but is shaped complexly by his unique context and nature as John Egbert.

That said, after the Retcon, something really interesting happens.

John stops pranking.

For the rest of Homestuck and through the Epilogues, we basically never see John indulging pranksterism again. At the same time, he eschews using his Retcon powers almost entirely, seeming almost scared of the responsibility and level of power they represent unless he's directly told to use them, like Rose does in Meat. This coincides with his prolonged period of aimless, directionless depression.

Who does this parallel?

Jane, who has similarly given up "frivolous" or "childish" concerns like pranksterism and jokes in favor of deeply serious matters like Pursuing The Presidency and Representing The Gods As Respectable People To Earth C. And like John, Jane is all the more miserable for it. What that might mean for either of her iteration's arcs is a topic for another day though, this ain't about her.

While his desire to kill Dirk is honestly misguided and ridiculous, this update's shift in John's psychology does point to a kind of positive progress in his psychology that takes him closer to the ideal of June he's glimpsed in his own future. He's Making Breath--direction, purpose, momentum-- for his own benefit, nobody else's.

Which is important to do, because right now all the work John needs to do is internal. The thing about John sometimes evoking his Maid heritage is that so far he hasn't been doing it consciously or consistently. He barely knows anything about who he is or what he wants, and so he's not in a position to be good to or try to help anybody.

It's a step closer to embracing Maid as an alternate/complementary identity, along with the gendered implications that the female-specific (so far) class implies.

A fully formed June Egbert will likely take this even further, realizing the potential of and fully embracing the possibility of Making Breath herself, for her own benefit, Breath in this case being simple fun. Frivolity. Jokes. Pranks! Detachment from the pain and suffering from the world by enjoying the fun that comes with existing, even in the midst of the chaos.

She will likely be a June who fully recognizes the reality that Life is a Game to be played and enjoyed--which is why the Game of Life board from Problem Sleuth shows up in the vision of June that John experiences while witnessing the Light of Vriska's ascension.

Hence the association with Nannasprite and the design's evocation of Harlequins. Harlequins and clowns are performers on the stage, and a June who recognizes that all of life is a stage would be in a position to be a playful and self-aware performer herself--even moreso if she becomes June by going through Helltier or ascending to Ultimate herself, thereby gaining the same metatextual knowledge Dirk, Al and Vriska possess.

And if such an ascension brings her back in touch with the power of Retcon, an Ultimate/Helltier June Egbert unafraid to use her power for whatever she wants would be the ultimate wildcard. She could issue free revives to all the dead trolls. She could bring back her Dad and Rose's Mom and Dirk's Alpha Bro.

Those are just random Maidy examples tied to resurrection I'm coming up with off the top of my head that could make her happy and/or severely emotionally fuck with Rosebot and Dirk, but really, she could and likely will do way more imaginative and interesting shit than that. She'd certainly prove a lethal danger to Dirk, which could likely put her in conflict with Rosebot, Vriska, Davebot, Jake and Roxy, none of whom seem likely to want to see Dirk dead.

She's a complete chaos element! And she's already here.

I can't wait to see what pranks she's gonna play.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

A concept I've been toying with. Will probably post the complete fic to AO3 once I've got a few more chapters written, but though I would share some of the chapters here first to garner interest. This fic is inspired by the (musical mostly, but also novel) of Daddy Long Legs.

Warnings: Some angst and self-reflection, nothing too heavy yet.

First (You are Here) | Next

Prologue

Taking the subway had to be the most mundane thing a person could do, and after the night he just had, Jason needed mundane.

He traded his uniform and helmet for a well-worn hoodie and a Wonder Woman cap that hid the streak in his hair. He sat with his shoulders hunched to make himself smaller, less imposing, but no amount of hunching could hide the broad planes of his chest. The stench of blood and gunpowder clung to him despite ringing off before he left the Outlaw safehouse.

It would have been wiser to stay behind and regroup. Everything that could go wrong with their assignment did, but he didn’t want to sit and stew in all the ways they failed—in all the ways he failed. Bizzaro let him without much fuss. Artemis had more to say.

“You can’t run from your failures like a coward.”

Leave it to her to keep him humble.

Their latest job took them halfway across the globe, and after facing metahumans, myths come to life, and sorcerers, Jason missed the psychopaths of home. This wasn’t the first time he’d been away. A month was nothing compared to five years, but he yearned for the familiarity of Gotham.

Nostalgia was a bitch.

Being back brought a well of complicated emotions with it. Anger, regret, but there was something else, something that tightened his chest and left his stomach soupy. He tried to ignore it, knowing he wouldn’t like what he found if he sat with it too long.

So, subway.

Mundane.

Human—he just wanted to feel human.

His knee bounced as lights rushed past, casting harsh shadows across the rubber floor. It was quiet, save for the slow grind of steel on steel as the car raced down its track. It was empty save for him.

Well, him and you.

He might have missed you entirely if not for the bright yellow jacket thrown over your button up and slacks. Unless your name was Robin or Signal, yellow was a bold choice for Gotham—especially this late at night. You chewed on the plastic end of the drawstring as you pored over the book in your lap.

Jason, despite every instinct telling him not to, craned his neck to identify the book. It might have been an effective strategy if you weren’t halfway across the car and facing him. You seemed to sense the weight of his stare and looked up. The string fell from your mouth as it tightened with the guarded look in your eyes.

An embarrassed flush burned his ears as he looked away. It was easier to pretend he knew how to socialize when compared to people like Bizarro and Artemis, who were far from the paragons of conservation. Charm was learned, and his was a little rusty.

But now that he had your attention, he might as well ask. “What’re you reading?”

Your eyes narrowed a fraction as you gave him a once over. When you found whatever, you were trying to ascertain, you lifted the book to show him the cover. The edges were frayed and discolored; its spine well-worn, but the words ‘Wuthering Heights’ popped against the taupe cloth.

Jason sat a little straighter. “First time reading it?”

You rubbed the page between your thumb and forefinger as a thoughtful deliberation creasing your brow. “Second time. I read it in high school, but I didn’t fully appreciate it. Now that I’ve dipped my toes into a few more classics, I thought it was worth revisiting.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

You were two-thirds finished, which was more than enough time to form an opinion. Jason had thoughts, but he wanted to hear from you first.

You considered him again, almost conflicted. “I appreciate it more than I did back then. I understand why people consider it a cult classic. It’s complex, and I like complex. Heathcliff is deeply flawed, Catherine too, but that’s what makes them compelling characters.”

He smiled. “I’ve never read a more complex, mutually destructive love story like Wuthering Heights in years. I mean, like, full-body chills every time I read it. There’s something thrilling about it.”

“Right,” you exclaimed, a passion igniting in your eyes.

“Now, Darcy, that’s a real paragon of romance.”

The car slowed, coming to a stop at an empty platform. The doors opened with a soft hiss as the automated voice announced the stop. Your gaze flicked to the door, then back to him. He half-expected you to make a run for it, but you stayed planted in your seat. He blinked.

Or maybe you expected him to leave instead?

He settled back in his chair to make himself comfortable. The doors closed once more, and the subway continued down its track.

You relaxed a little. “Well, Mr. Darcy, if you know so much about the classics, what do you recommend I read next?”

He choked on his laugh.

Jason was no leading man despite how often he dreamed of being transported into a regency-era romance novel. Throw him in a silk waist coat with a messily knotted cravat and call him a rake because he’d make the fictional women swoon.

Reality, however, was much darker and hung over his head like a thick smog that threatened to suffocate him. He didn’t exist on this earth to sweep ladies off their feet or duel for their honor. That, and he wasn’t nearly as suave in action as he pretended to be.

“And for the record, I’ve already read Pride and Prejudice.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, boy. How long do you have?”

A small smile curved your lips. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Discussing books came easily to him—probably because he had a lot of opinions and not a lot of people to share them with. Artemis didn't read, Bizarro preferred movies, and Roy—well, Jason was still reeling about their last book-related discussion where Roy tried to convince him that movie was always better than the book. For both their sakes, Jason made a conscious choice to not discuss books with him after that.

You listened as he rambled, going off about his favorite authors Austen and Dumas. He should have been embarrassed by how much he was talking, but the quiet intensity in your gaze spurred him to keep going.

His chest tightened with every stop, believing the next would be the point where you two parted ways for good. From the way your gaze kept darting to the door at each stop, he had an inkling that the feeling was mutual. He decided not to ask, lest it break whatever spell had fallen between you two.

All good things must come to an end. When the door slid open on the Park Row exit, Jason stood, albeit reluctantly. You did the same, slinging a plain canvas bag over your shoulder.

He curbed his surprise. “Park Row, eh?”

“The lifeblood of Gotham,” you said humorlessly.

Jason laughed. You did not. It died on a grunt as he tried to appear more sympathetic.

You exited the car with him, zipping the front of your hoodie as the unseasonably cool air pebbled his skin. He stuffed his hands in his jogger pockets and followed you up the stairs that led out onto the street. It was dark, darker than usual given the city had yet to replace the shattered streetlamp on the corner. It might have been his doing, errant bullets were a hazard of the job, but he was mildly irritated to find it was still broken.

Calm washed over him as he breathed. It was good to be home, even with all the complicated emotions that came with that sentiment.

“You live nearby?”

Your dubious look made him cringe. That sounded creepy coming from him, a random guy you barely knew. Sometimes it was difficult to separate Jason from Red Hood, not that he believed for a second that it would change your reaction. If you lived here, which he assumed you did because no Gothamite in their right mind would willingly follow him onto the street lovingly dubbed Crime Alley, the name Red Hood held weight. For all the good he did for the citizens, there was plenty of bad stack against him. He didn’t expect you to trust him with or without the helmet.

“Forget I asked,” he said.

You stared at him a second longer before walking away. “Stay safe, Mr. Darcy.”

Your tone carried an edge of finality, like you never expected to see him again. Despite the disappointment purling in his chest, he agreed that was probably for the best. A brief conversation with you was a warmer welcome than he anticipated, but he wasn’t about to push his luck by asking for more.

He lifted his hand to wave, though you had already disappeared around the corner. “You too.”

[gallusrostromegalus]

So we know Yugi prefers chess, and Bakura seems to enjoy tabletop games, but what are the games the rest of the squad likes that aren't Duel Monsters?

It's most accurate to say that Yugi loves all games, and is better at chess than he is at Duel Monsters. He likes Duel Monsters better BECAUSE its still a challenge for him, so it's still interesting, whereas chess has gotten boring. Yugi loves any game he can dissect and examine and generally chew on like a bored rottweiler.

Bakura likes RPGs, tabletop or otherwise. What he REALLY likes is world-building, and D&D and similar games let him show that enormous, complex world living in his head to his friends.

Yami/Atem also likes RPGs, but the part he likes is the Improv Theater. Being King is one part policy to nine parts convincing everyone to go along with it, and Atem is VERY good at putting on a show.

Joey likes Probability games- gambling really. Addiction runs in the family and Joey is well aware of this so he's cornered the thrill into the relatively low-stakes game of Duel Monsters. ...and the stakes of Duel Monsters got higher than any Casino.

Tea's a wild jock, a swan living with a flock of ducks. She loves physical games like Dance Dance Revolution or Regular Sports.

Tristian likes Tactical Wargame Simulators, like Warhammer. The rules might be excessively complex, but they MUST be adhered to, and this brings him a sense of peace.

Ishizu is the odd duck in that she isn't much of a Gamer. Between the Millenium Tauk giving her IRL cheats and the ungodly amounts of trauma she has about her family and the entire history of duel monsters, games aren't fun, they're stressful. Give her a dig site to hyperfocus on any day, but if she really MUST pick a game? Power Washing Simulator.

Marik really does love Duel Monsters, but his real game is Diplomacy. Not the thing ambassadors do, the tactical game of Diplomacy, in which players spend days at a time on a single session forming alliances, forming secret alliances, forming super-secret alliances, betraying each other, making up, betraying each other again and crafting the perfect psychological strategies to achieve their win conditions.

Odion's preferred game is Organized Crime, which is like Diplomacy, but actually less complicated and a lot funnier.

Mai Valentine's preferred game is Disorganized Crime, which is like Regular Crime, but with a Direct Objective to sow chaos by pitting the organized factions against each other and vanishing in the smoke.

Mokuba's favorite game-game is Capsule monsters but as he grows, he realizes the thing he likes about capmon is the cost-benefit analysis and that rapidly spirals into a deep passion for Actual Economics.

Seto's game is, first and foremost, Duel Monsters. It was his First, Only and Eternal love, and despite appearances (and his protestations), the man is a hopeless romantic.

[inkspiredwriting]

Espresso Envy

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I just love jealous five

Warnings: None

Five Hargreeves was not used to feeling insecure. As a seasoned time-traveler, assassin, and occasional apocalypse preventer, he’d faced threats far more daunting than everyday emotions. But watching his wife, Y/n, laugh with the handsome barista at their favorite coffee shop brought out a side of him he wasn’t quite familiar with—jealousy.

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and the small café was bustling with activity. Five and Y/n had settled into a cozy corner, enjoying their rare day off. Y/n had just gone to the counter to get their second round of Coffee’s when Five noticed the interaction.

The barista—let’s call him Chad, because Five immediately decided he looked like a Chad—was tall, with an easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair. Y/n was chatting animatedly with him, her laughter ringing out like a melody that grated on Five’s nerves when paired with Chad’s obvious admiration.

Five narrowed his eyes, feeling an unfamiliar twist in his stomach. Was Y/n flirting with him? Was Chad flirting with her?

Y/n, oblivious to her husband’s inner turmoil, was just asking Chad about the origin of the café’s unique blend. Five knew this because, in between sips of his black Coffee, he had tuned his hearing to pick up their conversation. “It’s nothing,” he told himself. “Just a friendly chat.”

But as the conversation continued and Chad seemed to grow more animated, Five decided he’d had enough. He stood up and sauntered over to the counter, trying to exude casual confidence but managing more of a stiff-legged march.

“Hey, honey,” Five said, slipping an arm around Y/n’s waist a bit too possessively. “Everything okay here?”

Y/n looked up, surprised but smiling. “Hey, Five! I was just talking to Chad about the coffee. He was telling me about this new blend from Guatemala.”

Chad, who clearly had no idea what he was stepping into, gave Five a friendly nod. “It’s a unique roast—very complex, with notes of chocolate and citrus. Would you like to try a sample?”

Five’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he plastered on a tight smile. “No, thanks. I’m not interested in... complicated blends.” He tightened his grip on Y/n, causing her to glance at him quizzically.

“Oh, Five, you should try it!” Y/n said, missing the tension in his voice. “It’s really interesting.”

Five huffed, attempting to sound nonchalant. “I’m more of a classic black coffee guy. Simple. To the point.”

Chad, apparently unbothered by the awkwardness, handed Y/n her latte. “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I’m always here.”

Five’s smile turned into a grimace. “Always here, huh?” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, we won’t keep you from your important work, Chad. Thanks for the coffee.”

Chad raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying hostility, but shrugged and returned to his duties. Y/n, meanwhile, was thoroughly confused by Five’s sudden mood swing.

As they returned to their table, Y/n couldn’t help but giggle. “Five, are you... jealous?”

Five scoffed, though his cheeks tinged pink. “Jealous? Me? Absolutely not. Why would I be jealous of some... latte-making, foam-art... Chad?”

Y/n laughed, setting her latte down and reaching for Five’s hand. “Chad is just a barista. A nice one, sure, but it’s not like I’m running off with him.”

Five sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. “I know, I just... I didn’t like how he was looking at you. Or how you were laughing at his stupid coffee jokes.”

Y/n squeezed his hand. “Five, you have nothing to worry about. I love you, not some random guy at a coffee shop. Besides,” she added with a mischievous grin, “you’re much better looking.”

Five’s frown melted into a smirk. “Well, that’s true. But just so you know, if Chad tries anything, he might find himself serving coffee in the Stone Age.”

Y/n laughed, pulling him into a hug. “Noted. But for now, how about we enjoy our coffee and let Chad keep his job?”

Five rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine, but I’m keeping an eye on him.”

The next weekend, Y/n dragged Five back to the café, much to his reluctance. “Let’s give it another try,” she said, nudging him playfully.

When they entered, Chad greeted them with a bright smile. “Hey, it’s my favorite couple! What can I get you today?”

Five stiffened but managed a polite nod. “I’ll have a black Coffee.”

Y/n chuckled, ordering her usual latte. As they waited, Five leaned over to whisper in Y/n’s ear. “If he tries to give you a free sample of that Guatemalan blend, I’m dumping it on his head.”

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Five grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Ridiculously in love with you, maybe.”

As they sipped their drinks, Five’s jealousy faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of Y/n’s laughter and the comfort of their love. Chad, blissfully unaware of the near prehistoric coffee trip he’d narrowly avoided, continued making his foam art, completely oblivious to the small drama he’d unwittingly starred in.

And Five, despite his occasional lapses into jealousy, realized that with Y/n by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t handle—even a charming barista named Chad.

[eiralunaire]

Headcanons of Damian Wayne. Part Two.

12. His Confusion About Love (But He Feels It Intensely).

Damian never understood how others could talk about love so easily. In his world, love wasn't a priority: it had always been training, fighting, and controlling. But with his girlfriend, things were different. Sometimes, in the midst of his emotional intensity, he didn't know how to handle his feelings. While he remained stoic on the outside, inside his head kept spinning: *“Is this love? Is it normal to want to be with someone all the time? It shouldn't be so complicated...”* However, what he did know, for sure, was that he had never felt something so strong for another person.

13. The Typical, but Different.

Although Damian is a reserved guy and doesn't usually make the typical romantic gestures, when he's with her, he feels weird, but happy to try. For example, one day, without warning, he takes her to an art exhibition that he knows she's interested in, or invites her to a park to see the stars, even if to him it all sounds a bit cheesy. He does it because he knows she likes it, and if it's something that makes her smile, then it's a worthwhile effort. Sometimes he catches himself thinking that, somehow, those little moments can be more important than a fight or a mission.

14. The Warrior Prince's Insecurity.

Even though Damian never says it out loud, there are times when he feels like he's not enough for his girlfriend. It's not because she's done anything to provoke him, but because, deep down, he can't help but compare himself to the perfection of what he thinks he should be. The son of Batman. The leader of the League of Assassins. The best fighter. And yet, sometimes, he feels out of place when he's by her side, because she has that ability to be light, cheerful, and genuine. He, on the other hand, is so used to carrying the weight of the world that it's hard for him to open up completely. But as she accepts him for who he is, he begins to learn that he doesn't need to be perfect to be enough for her.

15. Simple Details (That He Would Never Forget).

Damien is great at noticing details, and it's not just because he learned it as part of his training. In the case of his girlfriend, he pays attention to the little things that, to her, might seem insignificant: the brand of her perfume, the way she strokes her hair when she's nervous, or how she always has a habit of putting her coffee cup in an exact position on the table. While he won't say it out loud, Damian likes to know that, in those moments, he has a kind of silent power. Not just because he protects her, but because he understands what makes her who she is.

16. Escaping the Darkness Together.

Deep down, Damian is aware of the shadows that haunt him. The darkness of his family, of his training, of everything that comes with being the son of Bruce Wayne and Ra’s al Ghul. But in his girlfriend, he finds something that has nothing to do with that. With her, he can just be Damian: a boy who is falling in love, a boy who feels… good, without having to be the assassin or the leader of the League of Assassins. He likes how she gives him space to be himself, how she is able to bring something as essential as fresh air to his life, even when everything he knows is shrouded in layers of gray and complexity. With her, he feels less trapped in his destiny.

17. Any Excuse is Good to Be Near.

Damian is not the type to go out of his way for texts or calls, but when he is on a mission or out, he always finds the perfect excuse to send a message, even if it is just to say *"I'm here, everything is okay."* It is hard for him to admit it, but he needs to know that she is okay, that she is not alone. If she ever mentions something that's bothering her, he'll think about it for hours, searching for a way to fix it, even if it's something as small as the fact that she's out of his favorite marshmallows.

18. "Don't Let Me Go"

Sometimes, when the situation gets more tense or they're on a mission, Damian has moments where he unintentionally shows a more vulnerable side. "Don't let me go alone," he tells her quietly. He doesn't do it to sound weak, but because he doesn't want to face danger without her nearby. The funny thing is that, despite his image of a strong man, those moments serve to remind him that he doesn't always have to carry all the weight of the world. With her, he has an ally, and that's more than he ever thought he could have.

20. His Way of Saying "I Love You".

Damian would never say those two words in a conventional way. For him, love is not expressed with phrases. It is expressed with actions. It may be that, at the end of a long day, he surprises her with a cup of her favorite tea, or that he defends her from anything that bothers her without her asking. And when he finally says it, if the time comes, it will be something like, "I don't care what happens, but I will never let you get hurt." Because, in a way, that is his way of being vulnerable, of saying what he feels without saying it directly.

21. Being Together Is The Only Thing That Matters.

In moments of calm, when they are at home, everything else disappears. It doesn't matter what happened during the day, or the battles that Damian has faced. The only thing that matters is being near her. Whether it's watching a movie, having a coffee in silence or just talking about any nonsense, he values ​​those moments of simplicity. And although he never says it, in his mind, those are the moments that really make it all worth it. Being with her is his way of escaping, and despite all the chaos that surrounds him, he knows that, finally, he has something that truly belongs to him.

[red-garden]

Using Shen Yuan as a plot device to spare Shen Jiu from Luo Binghes hatred.❎

Using Shen Yuan as a plot device to make Shen Jiu and Luo Binghes relationship more common.✅

Usually in Dadjiu fics we see Shen Yuan trying to spare Luo Binghe from Shen Qingqius abuse, usually it works so well that Luo Binghe just leaves SJ alone?? and also SY wife beams him.

however I think it would be way better if instead it just made Shen Jiu and Luo Binghes relationship more complicated.

For context, in this AU Shen Yuan would be Yue Qingyuans son instead, and Shen Qingqiu wouldn't know that he's Shen Yuans other parent and YQY raises SY as a single father.(soulmate plant baby!!)

To SJ, SY would be like a mini qi-ge and because he hates Yue Qingyuan not Yue Qi, he would most likely adore Shen Yuan because he misses his Qi-ge.

Luo Binghe after coming to Qing Jing and dealing with Shen Qingqius abuse but seeing him be extremely kind to Shen Yuan and Ning YingYing in his own tsundere Shen Jiu way, would be extremely conflicted.

Because OG Luo Binghe believes that Shen Jiu isn't human, that he cant experience any human emotion. For example when it comes to SJ and NYYs relationship Binghe makes the allegation that SJ attempted to groom NYY, because LBH genuinely believed that SJ lacked human emotion and had an ulterior motive behind treating NYY nicely.

and with his reputation as a pervert, his idea that NYY was victim was strengthened. But in this AU, SJ also shows a lot of favor towards SY and treats SY like his son (he is but nobody knows shh!)

This is evidence that SJ can experience human emotion and be kind, but when it comes to LBH he just chooses not to? it more than confuses LBH and SY.

Because SJ has no reason to be so nice to SY, at first you'd assume his kindest is to curry favor from the sect leader but its well known knowledge that SJ HATES YQY, so his kindness towards SY is a genuine thing that has no motive behind it.

Maybe Luo Binghe would resent Shen Yuan a bit for it. However that resentment wouldn't last for long when Shen Yuan sneaks in medicine and treatment for Luo Binghes wounds.

When Shen Yuan offers to let Binghe bunk with him in his door room (Shen Jiu gave him one because Shen Yuan despite being a Qiong Ding disciple spends a lot of time in Qing Jing, probably as an exchange student program)

When SY gives Luo Binghe comfortable pillows and blankets and shares his cultivation manual with him. SY understands what NYY can't. NYY when she was young believed SJ was kind, SY however as a transmigrator knew SJ was cruel despite being treated well by him.

In the end Binghe wouldn't be able to kill SJ. (for one SY would be sad..at this point when they're adults its figured out that SJ is SYs dad) Binghe would be to conflicted to get revenge especially if QIjiu ever get together and have Public Displays of Affection.

He would just have to settle for therapy and conflicting feelings on what he wants.

it wouldn't be a complete sad unending with a disappointing conclusion, atleast he has Shen Yuan. And Shen Yuan is willing to go where ever Binghe goes, hes still there to help him <3.

(NYY took over the harem)

Luo Binghe vs the sad reality that you can’t just kill your shitty dad 😔 many such cases

I think Mouse on The Thorn actually did a really good job with this dynamic, aside from Shen Jiu immediately liking Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan pushes Yue Qingyuan to challenge Shen Jiu to be better. I don’t think there’s any world where Shen Yuan wouldn’t fight back against Binghe’s abuse until it stopped, but that doesn’t mean Bingbing cant have interesting and complex feelings about it.