#the uninvited fighter

[apas-95]

the western liberal anti-war sentiment of 'war is always bad and pointless, soldiers don't die for their country they just die, everyone who died for their country was a clown' is like. great in the context of their own imperialist participation in wars, but it's not actually built off a theoretical understanding that can differentiate between that and anything else. instead it just universalises the negative aspects of imperialism. the revolutionaries and anti-colonial fighters opposing imperialist invasion were not fighting a 'pointless' war, they were not idiots for dying for their people, and their sacrifices made a real and measurable difference to the lives of the people they fought for. to the western liberal mind, war is something you choose to travel overseas to do. to the rest of the world, war is something that arrives to you, uninvited. oppose unjust war, inter-imperialist war; and support just war, revolutionary war. nothing else will do.

[yeoandmoon]

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously. 

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them. 

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is. 

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created. 

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again. 

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist. 

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens. 

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

[thedandelionthief]

What's your opinion on ever polyniigo pairing :3

hi! sorry this took so long to answer, but i hope it was worth the wait.

i am including two rating systems, one for how invested i am in the pair, and the other for how functional their relationship is

🎼❄️🎨🎀

kanamafu:

kanamafu is interesting, because they are arguably the basis for every other pairing. niigo begins with kanamafu, however, i don’t believe it has to end with them. they’re a really sweet couple at times, but they still have a lot to work on. see, at the beginning, kanade and mafuyu are less of a genuine friendship and more a transactional partnership. they make music together, until one day kanade realizes mafuyu is in need of “saving”, and it all spirals from there. kanade’s savior complex feeds off of mafuyu, but mafuyu gets something out of it too: when she’s with kanade, she feels this sensation of warmth in her chest that she begins to crave.

despite everything, it’s actually not a very personal dynamic. kanade has yet to truly know mafuyu, and even after the main story, she lacks a lot of knowledge about her family and her personal dreams. but so does mafuyu, and they can discover these things together! i think their relationship is at its best when kanade isn’t so focused on saving mafuyu, but rather discovering who she is and what she loves. that part of their story is heartwarming.

present day, it’s undeniable these two have built a close bond together. they’re a partnership, but it’s not solely about saving and being saved. they care for one another, and that card scene of them in the rain together is one of my favorite moments in the entire game. they still have a lot to work through, and i think kanade especially isn’t capable of being in a completely healthy relationship right now. but still, they love each other so much, and that love will carry them through their hardships! i think they need other people too, which is why pairings that don’t involve the two of them together tend to be my favorites.

it gets a 5/10 on the “personally interesting to me” scale, and a 5/10 on the “is this be a functional relationship” scale

mizuena:

these two had me in an absolute chokehold until maybe last fall, and they are still everything to me. even if they aren’t my favorite romantic pairing anymore, they are the kind of friendship everyone needs at least once in their lives.

what’s better than two fashion-obsessed “girly girls” who love to banter? how about a secret that slowly tears them apart, as one of them loosens the thread connecting their hearts every single day, while the other tugs it towards herself begging (softly) to be let in? yeah there was no universe where i was ever normal about these two.

thinking about how ena, a natural born fighter, shows extreme emotional maturity with mizuki. and how mizuki wants to love her, but ultimately chooses to lie. it’s tragic, but one day. when we get our secret reveal. ena is going to take mizuki’s hand and tell her everything is alright, and she doesn’t have to worry about losing her anymore. and they are going to have a grand lesbian makeout sesh

personal investment: 8.5/10

functional relationship capacity: like a 7/10, a 10/10 post-secret reveal

mafuena:

now it’s time for my personal favorite. mafuena knocked on my door uninvited in 2023 and i haven’t gone back since. i always had some interest in the pairing as friends, because their dynamic was very unique in the main story. they had a rocky start that couldn’t compare to any other niigo friendship, and i was enthralled. but i didn’t quite believe they could date for a long time.

this wish will transcend the morning sky was our first real mafuena event, and it did not disappoint. ena using her dad’s fame to win mrs. asahina’s approval immediately cemented itself as one of my favorite ena moments, because it shows just how selfless she can be, despite popular fandom opinion at the time.

and then one day i was mulling over how important mafuena is from a narrative standpoint. they are the perfect parallels to each other, with both of them possessing exactly what the other wants. mafuyu has the popularity, acclaim, and expectations that ena has dreamed about for years. and how could she be so selfish to throw that all away, when others are dying to be in her position? ena has real passion and the means to chase after it. to someone like mafuyu, who has been a slave to others desires for years, she can’t even imagine that freedom.

and i think that’s why they’re so perfect for each other! they struggle to understand each other on so many different levels, but they also fill in the gaps for each other. ena needs someone to be real with her, to not sugarcoat or validate her for no reason. truth be told, she needs reality checks sometimes, but she also is the perfect candidate for the harsh kindness only mafuyu can provide. and mafuyu needs someone to push her in the right direction, to make her question what she really wants. they both encourage each other to be selfish in the best way possible.

i fucking love mafuena

personal investment: 10/10

functional relationship capacity: like a 7 to be honest

kanamizu:

kanamizu is also quite interesting because it is the least “personal” niigo dynamic. if you were to tally up how many times niigo characters have meaningful interactions with each other i feel like kanamizu would fall near or at the bottom. but they still have a very neat and under-appreciated friendship! just because they aren’t each others “person” doesn’t mean they don’t love and care for each other.

both of them are helpers, but they are kind of opposites in this area. mizuki tries to help mafuyu in practical ways, offering advice whenever she can. but she feels inadequate, like she isn’t equipped to give life advice when she herself is struggling to open up to her friends. meanwhile kanade is more focused on saving mafuyu through her music. what she hasn’t realized yet, is that things such as opening her home for mafuyu and comforting her after running away are much better ways of helping of mafuyu than “saving her” ever will be. she doesn’t tend to question this aspect of herself like mizuki does. she’s emotionally intelligent when it comes to others, but struggles to self reflect when her savior complex gets in the way. it clouds her vision.

basically what i’m getting at is mizuki and kanade are the most attentive niigo members, and they have more compassion for others than themselves. i would love to see more focus on how their methods of helping mafuyu intersect, since we’ve really only heard mizuki briefly talk about it.

also aesthetically these two are amazing. soft pinks and white with flower fields and rain i am ALL over it. i want mizuki to take kanade shopping, and i also want her to help kanade get an autism diagnosis. she is the best candidate for this since her childhood best friend also has autism

personal investment: 6/10

FRC: i don’t know about romantically, but as friends they are solid. an 8/10

kanaena:

any pairing with ena in it automatically qualifies as a good ship to me. kanaena is no exception!

i think ena is the closest kanade has come to saving someone so far. ena has undergone huge character development since proseka’s launch, and it’s thanks to kanade that she was able to start that journey. kanade was the first person in years to look at her art and see potential, which made ena reevaluate the worth she had assigned to her own creations.

presently, kanade’s attitude towards ena holds her back just a little. she wants to provide ena with a constant stream of validation for her art, which is good for keeping ena on the right path, but ultimately will not help her grow as an artist and person.

this does not make kanade a bad friend! she’s trying her best to save ena in her own way, but her methods are counterproductive. these two clearly care for each other a lot, and ena def has a crush on her lol. whenever she jumps to defend kanade it is the cutest thing ever. they have a very wholesome relationship that is entirely built around making each other smile <3. but are they going to push each other in the same way ena and mafuyu do? probably not anytime soon.

overall, i love these two, but i doubt they could be in a functional (romantic) relationship just due to ena relying so much on kanade’s attention

personal investment: 6/10

FRC: like a 5/10

mizumafu:

last but certainly not least, mizumafu! i am going to say right now, i used to not care much about this pair compared to other niigo ships, but they have really climbed the ladder recently! after our escape for survival, i realized the potential these two have to help each other out. (their color palette and personality contrast is just mwah chefs kiss too).

as i already mentioned, mizuki is mafuyu’s biggest practical helper. following the realization of how similar their identity struggles are (in marionette), mizuki was always a bit… weird when mafuyu’s troubles were brought up. she always did her best to help, but it was clearly she felt like a fraud, a phony if you will, trying to be there for mafuyu while going through the same thing.

this becomes most apparent in our escape for survival. at this point, niigo is running out of options to help mafuyu, and it forces mizuki to be more transparent than she has the entirety of their friendship. i cried the first time i read mizuki telling mafuyu “it’s okay to run away”. that was mizuki baring her entire fucking soul just to coax mafuyu into the right decision. it doesn’t seem like much, but to mizuki this is a huge deal. running away is the only reason she’s still here, and she isn’t really sure whether she’s fit to, but she offers that to mafuyu anyways. insane.

of course the imposter syndrome and the looming stress from her secret is still there, but mizuki continues to help mafuyu in any way she can. she’s literally in love. not to mention their one-sided banter is always hilarious. especially when mafuyu cuts in with one of her biting comments that you can’t really tell whether she means as an insult or not.

personal investment: 7/10

FRC: 7/10

—

🎼❄️🎨🎀

thank you for reading! i love and polyniigo

[silverskye13]

Angst prompt courtesy of: @theunderscorwolph

[Accidental unfinished sneak peak. Whoops.]

Helsknight waited... Probably too long to check in on Tanguish. In his defense, the last time he spoke to Tanguish, he was heading to Hermitcraft, and while Hermitcraft was far from safe, it was, in its own ways, safer than hels. There were fewer people, fewer hazards in general, and there was Tango. Tango wasn't a fighter. As far as Helsknight could tell, he was mostly just squirrelly, and a bit cowardly. But he was fiercely loyal. That went a long way. He had even, misguidedly, attempted to save Tanguish from Helsknight once. Helsknight, who recognized he was a big, scary, angry-looking, armed and armored knight, could respect that. And Tango and Tanguish were friends, and they got wrapped up in each other sometimes, and this was far from the first time Tanguish was gone all day talking to his other half about some project.

It was, however, the first time he'd been gone for two days in a row.

Helsknight didn't really consider himself to be a worrier. Tanguish was an adult. He could take care of himself. And even if he couldn't take care of himself, Helsknight could recognize that everyone had some level of pride. Butting in on someone else's business uninvited was a great way to be a nuisance at best, and a problem at worst. So, Tanguish didn't come back by the evening? If there was a problem, Helsknight would respectfully let him handle it. Tanguish knew to come get him for help. And while Helsknight would feel truly guilty if his dithering caused Tanguish to respawn, he could take some solace in knowing he would wreak holy vengeance on whoever did it.

[That was one of the perks of being a knight: when you pointed at someone and said something along the lines of "Through hels or high water I will smite thee" or some such dramatic nonsense, people tended to get out of your way and let you get to business.]

Day two of no Tanguish, and Helsknight went from being passively concerned, to something closer to open nervousness. He asked, as subtly as he could, around the Colosseum if anyone had seen him. No one had, though Martyn did make a joke about Tanguish finally getting wise and finding a real knight to squire to.

[EB really needed to stop getting between them when Martyn said things like that. The power of a bloody nose on shitty humor was astounding.]

Eventually, Helsknight had given up and decided the best thing to do was go to Hermitcraft and track the little pest down himself. He suited up for what he thought might be a mild amount of trouble -- it was always possible he would run into Wels when he was on Hermitcraft, and if he planned on searching for someone, he wanted to minimize the time he was fighting his double. He donned his chainmail, and the netherite gauntlets and grieves. He made sure the clasps on his boots were pulled tight. He cinched on his netherite sword, and made sure it pulled easily from the sheath.

He picked up his cloak last, and gave it a contemplative frown. In hels, the cloak was a distinctive and somewhat necessary piece of costuming. It was the visual shorthand he needed to inform everyone that he was a knight, and therefore probably knew his way around a sword [and wasn't worth mugging]. For those who knew knights, it told them what Order he was a part of. Useful. On Hermitcraft, however... Being able to tell at a glance that he was a red-themed knight in dark armor, who looked suspiciously like but not quite enough like one of the other server members...

While Helsknight weighed the pros and cons of stealth and subtly, two things he was famously very bad at, the shield hanging on his wall shuddered and kicked, and someone tumbled out of the reflection with a shriek. Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling. He did a slow count to ten in his head, and tried not to be very, very annoyed he'd just spent twenty minutes putting on armor for no good gods-damned reason.

"Tanguish," Helsknight hummed, when he thought he could keep his voice relatively neutral, "for no reason in particular, I think we should make some ground rules about when you should check in with people--"

Helsknight turned, looked down, and anything else he was going to say vanished out of his head with such abruptness, it made his ears ring. Laying prone on the floor of Helsknight's cell, staring with wide, somewhat terrified eyes and the kind of grin that screamed about recently realized mistakes, was Tango. The Hermit blinked up at him. Helsknight blinked down at him. Somewhere down the hall, somebody laughed at something, which was their only indication that the whole world hadn't frozen with them when they made eye contact.

Helsknight could say, with honesty, he never expected to be put in a situation where a Hermit stumbled into hels, much less into his cell in the Colosseum, surrounded by all the biggest, scariest, most dangerous people in hels. At a complete loss on what to do, he fell back on what he thought was safest: namely, making sure no one got killed over it. Helsknight leaped over Tango -- who screeched ingloriously -- crossed to the door of his cell and slammed it shut. There was no lock -- he'd never needed one until now -- so he settled on turning his back to the door and bracing against it, content in the knowledge that, should someone come inside, he would be the first one to know.

It did not hearten him to see that Tango was still on his floor. He had apparently, when Helsknight stepped over him, curled up as small as he could, anticipating some kind of attack. He'd thrown his arms up over his face, and now peered at Helsknight through his fingers, humming tuneless, horrified syllables.

"Tangotek," Helsknight said, concentrating on keeping his voice very calm and very quiet, "you aren't welcome in my home."

"I didn't know I was going to end up here," Tango whispered back, his voice high and tense as a violin string.

"Go home."

Something flickered in Tango's eyes, something like determination. Helsknight hated that look.

"Uhm. N-no can do. Sorry."

"Can't." Helsknight said, barring his teeth at the Hermit. "Or won't."

Tango made a face at him, tight-lipped and tense. He propped himself up on his elbows. "Uhm. If. If I say won't, will you kill me?"

"Possibly."

"Then I can't. Definitely, definitely, physically can't." Tango looked around, scrambled to his feet, and dashed to Helsknight's bed. He, admirably, only winced a little when he set his spawn -- probably worried hels worked like the nether, and the bed would manage to explode somehow. With a bit more confidence this time, Tango stated again: "Can't."

"I can break that." Helsknight seethed quietly, and tried very hard not to grind his teeth. "It would piss me off. I like being able to sleep here. But I can break that, and send you back to Hermitcraft."

"But you don't want to do that," Tango said nervously. "Because-- uh-- you'd have to kill me, and Tanguish would be really, really upset about that."

"Tanguish isn't here. So either run home, or I will... escort you there." Helsknight put on his most wicked grin, and placed his hand on his sword meaningfully.

Tango staggered a step back away from Helsknight, somehow managing to go paler than he already was. The redstone freckles adorning his face sparked, and the flame of his hair took on a slightly green cast. The idiot Hermit was apparently made of very stern stuff, though, because he didn't flee for the nearest reflection. He took a few seconds to breathe. He had his own sword, a fact that Helsknight only noticed because his hand twitched towards the hilt uncertainly. Helsknight wasn't alarmed. Tango didn't move like someone who knew how to use a sword well, and he was fairly sure the Hermit's hands were shaking so much he would drop it if he tried to draw it.

Tango swallowed hard, darted a tongue across his lips, and asked with only a minimal tremor in his voice, "Uh, T-Tanguish isn't here? Like, not here here, or like... Not in hels, here?"

Helsknight narrowed his eyes. "Is he supposed to be?"

"He left my place yesterday, and said he would be back in a few hours," Tango explained quickly. "I thought-- like, you know, maybe he decided to wait until morning? But. He didn't come back. And I got worried. He. You know. He tells me if he can't make it. It's-- all it takes is a reflection to talk. You know? And I did look in my reflection, but I couldn't see anything, which normally means he's not by one. It was just dark."

Tango crossed his arms. It was a gesture that somehow made him look smaller.

"I thought-- I hoped-- you know. Hopping through the reflection. I could just check on him. Make sure he was okay. I think. I think maybe it just took me to his spawn point."

Tango thought that statement over, then flashed Helsknight an incredulous, almost horrified look, "Why is his spawn point your bed?"

"Tanguish was supposed to be with you," Helsknight frowned.

"You haven't seen him?"

"No." Helsknight rested his hand on his sword hilt, mostly just so he wouldn't fidget. "Could he have gone back to Hermitcraft and you just missed each other?"

"I checked," Tango said, shaking his head. "I have... X gave a few of us console access. I did a few scans... Is there. Anyone you know with that kind of access for hels?"

"Hels and Hermitcraft are different places." Helsknight wrinkled his nose. "Maybe Evil X?"

"Cool! We'll talk to him then!"

"Oh sure," Helsknight spat derisively, "I'll just go knock on the front door to Evil X's tower and ask politely for admin access, will I?"

Tango grimaced. "Will he not... Like that kind of thing?"

"Oh he'd just love it. One more thing to hold over my head." Helsknight snorted. "It wouldn't work anyway. I have a pact that says I can't directly oppose him. If he, for the gods know what reason, has Tanguish, and I knew--" Helsknight made a parrying motion with his hand. "It's better if I don't know. Keeps my hands from being tied."

"Huh," Tango leaned back against the wall, slightly more at ease. Helsknight wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the Hermit was getting comfortable. "I kind of figured you and X-- uh, Evil X, would be friends."

[underdark-dreams]

[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today. 

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape. 

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight. 

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?" 

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head. 

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat. 

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight." 

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it. 

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment. 

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest. 

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days. 

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder. 

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—” 

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now. 

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower. 

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this. 

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door. 

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack. 

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him. 

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across. 

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders. 

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact. 

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?” 

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word. 

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied. 

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression. 

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.” 

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.” 

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her. 

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?” 

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position. 

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same. 

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate. 

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired. 

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

[m3r1m4r5u333]

"Eddie sucks for traumatizing Chris" seems to be a somewhat common fandom reaction and yeah. That really frustrates me.

Like no. Kim is the one who sucks here.

Eddie is certainly many types of fucked up but it should be damn OBVIOUS that psychotherapy is something that trained, licenced professionals provide, and only if it's a consensual relationship.

What is super fucked up is to learn about someone's trauma, grief and vulnerability and your role in it,

then show up uninvited at their doorstep,

and totally ignore them trying to say that they don't consent to this bizarre, unprofessional version of therapy you just randomly decided to cook together without having any educated idea if this gamble pays off,

and just pester them until they crack and have a meltdown in front of you!!

Kim learned of Eddie's vulnerability and trauma and used it. She trampled all over it, played with it, because apparently she is deranged enough to think that being an actor makes her qualified to provide psychotherapy?!

Also, let's maybe remember that she has been dating Eddie and even if she was a professional, having an intimate personal relationship with your patient is a major fucking no-no.

And hey, mind I remind you guys, to provide psychotherapy, in pretty much any developed country, you first receive an university level education - this means years of studies - because it is a demanding job, and messing around with people's brains can just fuck them up more if you don't know what you're doing.

So yeah. It pisses me off that people are blaming Eddie for this clusterfuck because holy fuck. He is the victim here.

Eddie exposed a major vulnerability to Kim, and Kim, the person learning of this vulnerability, had zero respect for his trauma, for his pain, and actually used the power she must have realized she had over Eddie... To crush him to bits.

Uninvited, without his consent, in his own home, fully knowing that she might end up even meeting Eddie's son.

Yes, he invited her in. That is my point - her presence makes him vulnerable, confused. He wasn't thinking clearly.

And Kim knew this. 'You remind me of my dead wife' is a very weird, charged setting for a personal relationship, it obviously can lead to all sorts of issues and power positions.

And she saw that and thought "You know what, I'll just make him confront his pain and spiral in front of me. That seems like a good, not at all fucked up idea.

I know what I'm doing, clearly I'll be his ideal therapist. After all, I am not at all trained to provide therapy, and he is dating me, and I remind him of his dead wife. Yes, this will be great for him. No way is it a totally unnecessary gamble that could end up who knows how!"

Kdjdbbrjjr. I hate her. At best this is super vapid, impulsive thinking. At worst this is a downright malicious abuse of a realised authority over someone who is clearly vulnerable, struggling, and unable to think clearly.

Either way, this idea sucks and if it turns out to help Eddie, it's only due to LUCK because damn, this "therapy session" was like flying a fighter jet drunk into a storm.

[genshinemblem564]

Chapter 1: Departure

One month later, the entirety of Teyvat now knows of the gold stained arrow, and after gathering the necessary supplies for travel, several search parties are being mobilized towards the land mass that seemed to appear overnight.

In Mondstadt, the knights' reconnaissance crew was being mobilized as well as the Adventurers' Guild.

Jean: Do you understand your mission?

Eula: Crystal clear ma'am, find their grace and bring them back safely.

Jean: Good, I want you to set off as soon as you're prepared.

Eula nods and exits the acting grand master's office before running into Mika.

Mika: Everyone's been prepped ma'am, we're just waiting for the provisions and other supplies to be brought onto the ship. We should be able to depart within a few hours.

Eula: Thank you, Mika. Let's go wait with the others then.

Meanwhile, at the Adventurers' Guild. A certain boy was fighting for a spot on the ship.

Bennett: Come on, you can't expect me to stay here when an entire island appeared overNighy.

Adventurer: No, I don't want your bad luck anywhere near me or my team, not on land, and certainly not at sea. You're staying here.

Cyrus: Oh? Who said that choice was yours to make?

Adventurer: C-Captain Cyrus, but this boy, he's cursed. There's no other way to explain it. He'd be putting everyone in danger if he went.

Cyrus: Danger? Danger comes with the job kid, and you clearly haven't been paying attention. Ever since their grace smiled upon him, his bad luck seems to disappear whenever they're involved, so I say he's going.

The adventurer fell silent in the face of his commanders argument.

Bennett: T-Thank you, Captain Cyrus. I swear I won't let you down.

With that, Bennett rushes to the guild ship, happy as can be.

Fischl: Once again, this boy's fate changes quite sporadically.

Oz: I'm quite sure it's just his luck being better when their grace are involved.

Fischl: Doth mine ears deceive, or are you proclaiming that the being of creation and power is in no way tied to fate's hands?

Oz: N-Not at all Mein Fraulein .

In Inazuma, the ace detective makes his move.

Heizou: Is everything ready for departure?

Soldier: Yes, we can set sail whenever you're ready.

Heizou: Very good. Prepare to set sail!

Meanwhile, below deck, there seems to be an uninvited passenger.

Itto: Alright, snuck aboard and they're non the wiser.

The oni's thoughts were interrupted as he was pulled aside.

Shinobu: What do you think you're doing?

Itto: I'm going to help find their grace, then people will have to stop looking down on the Arataki Gang, or at least stop bad mouthing you guys.

Shinobu: You idiot, you're going to get thrown in jail again or killed.

Itto: Oh, you don't think I can handle this alone, so you're coming along for the ride.

Shinobu: I am not joining this adventure, I'm stopping it and bringing you back.

Itto: Well, if that's the case, then how come the boat's already moving?

Shinobu: What?

Gazing out the nearest window, Shinobu finds Itto's words to be true. Seems she is in for quite the headache.

In Sumeru, theAkademiya gathers their scholars.

Nahida: There aren't going to be that many fighters outside of a few mercenaries, so you should go help them alright.

These words echoed in the Wanderer's head as he heads toward Port Ormos, where he encounters the rest of the expedition group.

Tighnari: Oh. I didn't expect to see you here.

Wanderer: I was brought along as extra muscle. What about these two?

Kaveh: The scholars have theorized that due to their grace's mental state at the time of the islands appearance, there may be a few differences that need to be studied to properly explore this new land.

Faruzan: With my linguistic knowledge and our combined mechanical prowess, there shouldn't be anything too difficult there.

Tighnari: Don't sound so sure of yourself. Remember, this is a god of creation we're talking about. Even our most esteemed scholars may not be enough.

Kaveh: Anyway. We're just waiting on the hired mercenaries. They are coming all the way from the dessert, but they should be here soon.

A few hours later.

Dehya: Hey. I recognize you lot from that interdarshan thing, so I'm guessing I'm in the right place.

Wanderer: Hmm? And you are?

Dehya Huh? Oh, right. Aside from Tighnari, we've never properly met. The name's Dehya, I'm the leader of the mercenaries you hired, pleasure to be doing business with you.

Wanderer: Is everything ready now?

Tighnari: Yeesh! You're a prickly one, but yes, as soon as everyone is on board, we can....

Wanderer doesn't let him finish before walking away, wanting this to be over with already.

Kaveh: (Sigh) This is going to be a long trip.

In Liyue, there were two individuals meeting at Wangshu Inn.

Zhongli: So, you are seeking permission to depart from Liyue to investigate this "demonic presence"?

Xiao: Yes. This demonic presence poses a threat, not to you, but their grace fled, suggesting they are in a weakened state.

Zhongli: Very well. If that is the case, you may depart as soon as you're able. One more thing, you seem troubled. Why is that?

Xiao: I'm just confused. Why would their grace flee only to put themself in more danger?

Zhongli: I believe you've answered your own question earlier. They are in a weakened state, so it is unlikely that this island was created, but more likely, it was summoned. As for why this one in particular. I can't imagine they were in the best state of mind when fleeing for their life, so thinking would have been difficult. This place must have been fresh in their mind for one reason or another.

With their conversation over, Xiao departs for Liyue harbor, where numerous milileth soldiers and Xiangling were preparing to depart aboard the Alcor.

_____________________

Note: Sorry if Liyue's section feels rushed compared to the others, even after leaving this, taking a nap, and continuing afterwards, I was just barely able to finish Xiao and Zhongli's meeting, but I hope you enjoyed this despite this glaring issue. This is also my first time writing Fischl, so I hope I didn't mess up.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 17/?

Prev | Next

Jason woke up with the feeling of wrongness deep in his chest (core).

Rage, rage, rage.

Jason knew he had to calm down, but he couldn’t. He knew; he just knew someone uninvited was in his haunt. Jason sneered; they could harm his family. He called a bit of ectoplasm in his hands and got the knife from under his pillow.

Whoever had decided to invade his haunt was going to regret it.

Jason opened his door in time to see Jazz and Danny leave their rooms, their eyes glowing. (If he had looked in a mirror, Jason would’ve noticed his eyes were glowing, too.)

Jazz held a green and white staff while Danny held a ball of glowing ice. That wouldn’t do.

“Danny, stay here with your sister.”

“Jason, I’m not staying here while we’re under attack,” Jazz said.

“No, not you, with Ellie,” Jason knew he needed all the help he could get; there were too many invaders in his haunt. “Danny, if anyone either than me or Jazz come in, leave with Ellie.”

Danny scowled, angry.

“What, no! I can help.”

“Danny, I won’t be able to fight as well if you’re in danger. I need you to be safe, or I’ll be distracted. Just, please, listen to what I say.”

Danny pouted and crossed his arms. He stared into Jason’s eyes.

“Fine, but I don’t like it.”

“Thanks, chum.”

Jason and Jazz went out and looked into the woods that surrounded their house. They didn’t see anyone, but they knew the intruders were there. Jazz and Jason stared at each other before nodding and going in their direction. Splitting up wasn’t ideal, but the other could still get the children out if one fell.

Jason brought up an ectoplasm ball to his hand again. He looked around but saw no one.

It was years of experience that had him dodging. Soon he was being attacked.

Jason fought back and noticed that he knew the fighting style. It was the League of Assassins. Fuck.

Why were they here? He had left the League a while ago. Were they here because he had left the League? In the end, it didn’t matter. He had to get them away from his family, even if it meant killing them.

Jason fought hard, incapacitating three, but five more showed up. Even with his ghostly powers, he had trouble fighting this many opponents who knew what they were doing. They dodged ectoblasts and took his intangibility in strides. He hoped Jazz was doing okay. Just as he was about to attack again, a woman’s voice rang out, “Enough!”

Jason groaned. Talia Al Ghul stepped out of the shadows wearing a black body suit. She had a sword strapped on her back, a gun on her side, and knives strapped on her thighs.

“Talia,” Jason acknowledged, resigned. He would have to move. Fuck, Talia would never stop hunting him. Why was she even here? She hadn’t contacted him when he was in Gotham (he would never admit how much that hurt.), and now that he wants to leave his past behind, she shows up.

“Now, habibi, is that any way to greet your mother?”

Jason gritted his teeth because she was right. She gave birth to a new him (via Lazarus pit), cared for him during his catatonic stage, and taught him how to walk, talk, and fight. In every sense of the word, Talia was a mother to Jason. A fucked up, assassin mother, but a mother nonetheless. A mother who abandoned him in Gotham after his failure.

Jason was taken out of his musings when he heard Jazz being dragged, loudly by her part, through the woods.

“I approve of her, habibi; she’s a strong fighter.”

“Who are you people? Let me go, now!”

Jazz had trouble breaking free from the assassins holding her, even with her augmented strength. (Jason noticed it was the bigger, muscley ones holding her down…and there were four of them.)

“Let her go, Talia.”

Talia nodded toward the assassins, and they quickly let Jazz loose. Jazz came to Jason’s side, staff ready to attack.

“Do you know these people, Jason?”

“Jazz, meet Talia, my assassin mom. Talia, meet my sister, Jazz.”

“Hmm,” Talia hummed, “are you going to invite me to your place, habibi?”

No, Jason wanted to say, but if Talia was here, she knew about Danny and Ellie. She already confirmed she knew about Jazz. Besides, Jason needed to know what Talia wanted and why she was suddenly back in Jason’s life.

“They stay,” Jason pointed vaguely toward the assassins. He didn’t want them anywhere near the kids.

Talia gave a hand gesture, and the assassins melted into the shadows. Jason could still feel them in his haunt.

The walk back to the house was silent. Jason was hyperaware of the intruders in his haunt and of Talia walking by him. He couldn’t help but imagine the worse. Why was Talia here? She didn’t seem surprised by his powers. Was it because she was good at hiding her emotions, or was it because she knew? Did she know about Danny’s power? Ellie?

Sometimes he understood Bruce’s need to know everything and make plans around them. Then when things come back to bite in the ass, at least there are ways to combat it.

Jason sat down in one of the chairs when they reached the house. He looked at Talia and gestured toward the other chair. No way in hell he was letting her in the house.

“I’m going to check on the children so you two can talk. Excuse me.”

Jazz entered the house.

Talia raised an eyebrow toward Jason. Jason crossed his arms. He knew Talia wanted to go in the house, too. He refused. She sighed and sat on the chair opposite him.

“What are you doing here, Talia? Hell, why did you even look for me? I left the League a while ago, and you didn’t care to contact me when I was in Gotham.”

“Your father is worried about you.”

“Oh, so now you’re Bruce’s messenger? When did he even contact you?”

“My Beloved didn’t contact me. It was Damian.”

Jason was surprised. He hadn’t had much contact with the newest Robin. He had only seen Damian in passing in the League, and the Bat and his birds kept the kid as far away as they could from Jason. He didn’t blame them after what he had done to Tim in his green-tinged raging mind.  

“Why would Damian care if I’m gone?”

“Your departure has…unsettled your father and family.”

Jason snorted.

“What, they’re waiting to hear news how the black sheep of the Bat Family has gone on another killing spree?”

Talia’s expression could almost be described as soft.

“Your father misses you.”

“He misses a boy that died. He misses having me under his thumb, not me. Not this Jason Todd.”

Silence reigned for a few moments.

“Come back with me. I can protect you and your son. I can keep Jasmine and Danielle safe.”

Jason sneered, “You mean so you can have new weapons to use? What will you do, brainwash my son like you brainwashed me? Are you going to keep Ellie and Jazz under your control? Give us over to Ra’s?”

“All your actions were your own, habibi.”

Jason turned away from Talia and stared into the woods. Somehow, he was able to see the assassins this time around. (He didn’t know his eyes were glowing. He didn’t know Talia was watching his eyes with interest.)

“I don’t want my family in that environment. Danny deserves to be a child, not a weapon.”

Talia inclined her head, “If that’s what you wish, Jason. I only wanted to give you the option.”

Talia rose from her seat, “You won’t tell Bruce, will you?”

Talia smiled, “No, habibi. Your father won’t learn of your location from me. You must know, though, that Bruce will learn sooner or later of your whereabouts. He won’t stop looking.”

“I think once he finds out I’m not killing people, he’ll stop looking for his greatest failure,” Jason traced his scar.

Talia looked up sharply, following Jason’s finger.

“Did Bruce do that?”

Jason’s silence spoke volumes.

“Bruce rarely acts foolishly, but he makes grave mistakes when it happens. Like letting that clown live.”

Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed at the mention of his murderer.

“Please, don’t tell him.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Do expect me to keep in touch, though.”

Jason nodded, knowing there was no point in discouraging Talia Al Ghul. She gave him a peck on his cheeks and walked into the woods.

____

Talia raised her hand to halt her assassins. She was being followed.

“Show yourself.”

A little boy with black hair and glowing green eyes suddenly appeared before her. He was sneering.

“Hello, Daniel.”

“It’s Danny. You better not hurt my daddy, or I’ll make you regret it.”

Daniel’s eyes glowed stronger with the emotions behind them.

“I wouldn’t hurt my son.”

“Parents hurt their children all the time,” Daniel balled his little fists.

Hmm, interesting reaction.

Talia approached the little boy and put her hand on his shoulder. His little fists started glowing Lazarus green.

“Jason has a strong and precious son. I’m glad that my son has found you, little one. He needs more love than his father, or I can ever give him. Thank you.”

Little fists unclenched in surprise.

“I won’t call you ‘grandmother’ if that’s what you’re fishing for.”

Talia smiled, “I don’t expect you to.”

Then she disappeared into the night.

____

Damian picked up his phone.

“Mother,” he greeted.

“Damian. Jason is fine. He doesn’t want to be found by your father and his little brood. I won’t tell you where he is; he’s been betrayed by his parents more than enough.”

Before he could answer, she hung up.

“Ugh,” he yelled, throwing his phone against the wall and breaking it.

“Baby bat, what’s wrong?”

Richard walked into Damian’s room. He was visiting the family with little Mar’i.

Damian hesitated momentarily before confessing, “I asked mother to look for Todd. She found him but refused to tell me where he is.”

Richard exhaled sharply.

“Did she tell you anything?”

“Just that he’s fine and doesn’t want to be found,” Damian answered bitterly. He never thought his mother would do this to him.

“She said enough parents have betrayed Todd. I didn’t even know she viewed herself as Todd’s parent.”

Why had she never mentioned it? Damian hadn’t seen Todd many times in the League, and he had been behind Talia the two or three times he had. Grandfather would sometimes complain about his mother’s pet project, but Damian would have never imagined that his mother saw Todd as a son.

His brother had been kept from him by both of his parents. He wondered how different things would’ve been if he had met Jason in the League.

Richard sat by Damian, “What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Do you think father will ever stop feeling bad if Todd never returns?”

“He’ll come back. If not, we’ll find him and tell him how much we miss him.”

“But if he doesn’t want to come back, what then?”

Richard didn’t have an answer.

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks

[naboman]

𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

Chapter five: the uninvited. Description: The project is put into practice and, with it, some of the ghosts of the past reappear to torment the secretary. Warnings: None.

[Previous] [Next]

A figure in the darkness, looking straight at me

"Did you really find Tokyo Manji?! Creepy!" Tsubasa disconnected from the computer just to listen to my account, wide-eyed, as if she were hearing the account of a supernatural event from Ed and Lorraine Warren, and being a cynic, I took advantage of the moment to gloat.

'I deserve a bit'. I think with satisfaction.

"I know, I know," I agreed proudly, crossing my legs and slipping my arms behind my neck.

"And what do they look like? Do they have war scars? Severed limbs? " The boy's glasses were crooked due to his bad posture in the chair, he stretched so much that he looked more like a meerkat snooping around outside his burrow.

"Tsu-kun, they're all students, not former war fighters!" I waved my hands, trying to appease the boy, with a sigh escaping my lungs, as I could never have thought that my co-writer would be such a fanatic about hooligan groups. "They're just a bunch of bums riding motorcycles and committing crimes, does that answer your question?"

"I think it will."

"Good." I concluded, stretching my arms lazily in an attempt to rouse my muscles, not very successfully, but it'll have to do.

"It's impressive, I have to admit…" The treasurer muttered quietly with some disbelief, walking away with some papers in his hands, and I still haven't asked him what the hell this bastard is doing in the journalism club room.

Then again, Yuuma wasn't used to paying me compliments, so that brief mutter in turn inflated my ego like never before.

"By the way, what did you come here for?" I blurted out as soon as the opportunity allowed, "don't say you came just to see me…" I let my evil smile slowly form.

"The President wants your report, incompetent," He replied with no patience whatsoever, the scowl on his face showing that he'd had a bad night's sleep or that Yuuma was just in a bad mood.

"Thank you in advance, now you can leave, I have things to sort out!" I waved my hand dismissing him, he just frowned and quickly left the room with heavy steps, closing the door harshly behind him "goodbye!"

"Rude, as usual," Tsubasa commented, opening the documents tab on the computer.

"That's very subjective" I retorted with gusto, approaching the boy to finally start the week's report. Miyura was in charge of printing the newspaper, so we'd have plenty of time before she came back with piles and piles of paper on our desk ready to be printed with the information and distributed like fallacious political propaganda throughout the corridors of this school "Well, let's get started!"

"Right," He began, filling in the title with a commonly used heading, then patiently skipping a few lines to make room for the first paragraph, "so?"

"Well…"

I slowly recalled the issues surrounding Tokyo Manji, along with what I had discovered about the world of delinquency in school environments. My notes on discursive topics prepared evenings before, together with the materials from my research, gave us great material to discuss.

As I explained to Tsubasa what to do, my mind crawled deeper and deeper, until it returned to the night before, where I experienced what a youth biker gang was like live and in color…

19:20 AT NIGHT

"So you have a high position and you didn't even make a point of telling me? What a cruel thing to do…" I gave the boy a betrayed look, but used to my bad manners, Mitsuya quickly realized the sarcasm dripping from my voice like a mockery. "You know, I could never have noticed all your pomposity with my naked eyes."

"At least I can say that I do what my job requires," the young man retorted acidly, although there was a mean smile on his lips that made me clench my jaw rudely.

"What are you implying, sir?" I asked, looking at him minutely, with my arms crossed as I carefully stretched to look at his face properly.

"Nothing much, miss, nothing much… " He feigned naivety, averting his eyes, and yet the little smile gave him away.

I clenched my fists and sighed longingly.

"Imbecile, anyone can look after a bunch of useless if they handle them properly!" I grumbled loudly, "Don't think that what you do makes you a big shot."

"Your friendliness captivates me more and more, Miss [Name]" Mitsuya's smile disappeared at the onset of my unscrupulous arrogance.

We remained silent until the motorcycles stopped not far from us and a crowd of uniformed schoolboys, clad in black and gold, got off them. I didn't make any comment, and my muteness seemed to annoy Mitsuya, who glanced at me every now and then, as if he expected me to say something or at least show some reaction. But the only thing I kept on my countenance was a hard expression of lowered eyebrows and suspicion.

The headlights illuminated us in the darkness, and soon, with the light, we were easily identified near the temple. We were looking in opposite directions, so I can tell you that I was astonished when a very tall young man came up to Takashi with his arms open and a beaming smile, as if I hadn't seen him for ages. He had a shaved head and a design in the little that was left of his hair, if I may also add that the most distinctive thing about his appearance was certainly the cut on his lip.

It wasn't long before they were both greeting each other vigorously. I was a little surprised, I admit, because I had never seen Mitsuya with such a broad smile, like a child unwrapping a birthday present.

"You make it sound like you didn't see me the day before yesterday" My schoolmate laughed, numbed by the conversation.

"I'm just excited," the taller one retorted hurriedly, "it's been a while since we've kicked some ass together, huh, Taka-chan?" His laughter infected the lilac-haired boy.

For a moment, his friend's gaze landed on me, but fortunately no comment was made.

"Mitsuya!" I heard a shout, a little further away, a blond man in braids with his hands stuffed in his pockets next to another blond man, this one much smaller, however, "come here!"

"Right! I'm coming!" He shouted back eagerly, breaking away from the tall young next to him to put his hand on my shoulder; for a moment, I wondered if he was trying to reassure me, "Come on."

"As you wish," I said dismissively, raising my shoulders as I entwined our arms, something that surprised Mitsuya, making him jump in his composure, but he continued walking with our arms linked without saying anything.

Until, at a certain point in our walk, the delinquent approached me to whisper in my ear:

"You're acting strange, what's wrong with you?" He asked hurriedly.

"You need to be a bit more specific." I moaning quietly, making a fool of myself.

"Are you… Are you…" He searched for words as I gave him a questioning look "docile!"

"Your words hurt my little heart, I'm not a dog, 'Taka-chan'" I pretended blatantly and he was embarrassed at the sound of the nickname coming out of my mouth "But, if you must know, I'm only doing this because I don't want to get too close to your strange friends. So do me a favor and be helpful."

Mitsuya couldn't say that I was being indecent in my precautions, he knew that himself, so he just sighed and kept walking.

"You're awful," he muttered one last time, to which I just thanked him with a little smile.

A few steps back, my companion's old friend asked him what the scandalous whispering was about, to which he just casually replied that it was a school argument.

"What do you know…" The tall blond looked proud, looking us up and down "aren't you going to introduce your girl?"

"You didn't say you'd bring a girl," the shorter one promptly added, nibbling on a soft, pink candy.

I wrinkled my nose a little at the question, but Mitsuya quickly responded.

"It was last minute" The boy in the black uniform next to me cleared his throat before stepping forward to continue, dragging me along with him "this is Kawaguchi [Name], we're working in partnership, so I thought you could bring her here without any problems."

"Did you rehearse that or did you just improvise?" I asked quietly, and he just ignored my comment, turning his gaze to the blond, who was now going up on the stone steps of the temple, looking at us curiously.

"It doesn't look too bad," shrugged the little blond, getting up from his seat and receiving multiple glances, "at least Emma will have someone to talk to."

Incomprehensible murmurs drifted through the air at the end of his speech. Soon afterwards, I was invited to stay under the care of said 'Emma' so that I wouldn't be in the middle of the gang members, something I accepted without objection. The girl was a little too friendly with someone had just met. Her questions were predominantly about my relationship with the leader of the second division, something that made me feel like a Shinjuku prostitute.

In the end, I managed to gather a lot of information about the relationship between gang members and their peers. I wrote it all down and then put my little notepad away.

"But come on," Emma snapped me out of my reverie, coming close to my ear, "are you going to tell me that you don't have even a little crush on him? Not a bit?"

"Not a bit" I clicked my tongue playfully, allowing myself to see the hypothesis in a comical way "I would never feel anything for a little lawbreaker. These relationships are a waste of time."

"How pessimistic," Emma replied with disappointment in her voice.

"Maybe so, but my thoughts led me to where I am today," I retorted indifferently.

"Well…" Emma paused silently, as if thinking through what she wanted to say, linking her arms behind her back and staring at the starry sky above "they're good people, believe me, even if it's not romantically, I still hope you'll change your mind about Mitsuya-kun."

"At this point, I think that's impossible," I replied, looking down at my own feet with a forced smile.

Soon, the meeting was over and the members were all saying goodbye to each other. I stood there for a few seconds, watching the crowd gather and chatting contentedly, wondering how these people got along so well when they were so different; while I was a little red dot standing out among my own kind.

I sighed, letting the thought fade away. I gathered my belongings and started down the temple stairs alone. I dialed the number on my cell phone, preparing to leave as discreetly as possible.

The cold touched my shoulders and knees, then I shivered, shivered with cold because my own body heat wouldn't generate enough to warm me up. I was startled when I reached the last step, and minutes of distraction later the cold was replaced by the warmth of a soft fabric, the temperature and smell were familiar, nostalgic, although I didn't recognize where from, but I remained frozen in the same place, in complete shock.

Someone was behind me.

"You have the worst habits, you'll end up dying of hypothermia."

The voice left me static and incredulous, sending me back to the past in less than a second as the air carried its lazy, rebellious sound to my freezing ears. I was breathless, wondering if it was a haunting making me question my sanity, which was no longer exactly stable.

After a while, I finally caught sight of a strand dyed yellow, which blended in with the black hair, and I was greeted by bright yellow eyes that stared back at me. Like the abyss that faces a man when stared at for too long.

"What are you doing here… [Name]-chan?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Hanemiya."

[thebananaiscold]

CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER!

NUMBER ONE: WEIRDO 1 (Witch Edition)

. Lives alone in the woods and has severe trust issues

. Cute n spooky

. Knows all your secrets and your mom’s secrets too.

. Will lick you if threatened …. Or bite

. Will cast a spell on you if you piss her off …… or on your pet fish…. either way someone will pay

. HATES the British dead guy, steals his cane sometimes and got him uninvited to Bingo

. makes potions cause she’s cool and magical 😎

NUMBER TWO: WEIRDO 2 (Clown Edition)

. Banned from entering every school, but not for the reason most people get banned from schools

. Kills kids because taller people scare him

. Likes to bite people

. Goth clown weirdo

. Smells like a dirty candy bar

. Likes his personal space

. Likes your personal space

NUMBER THREE: GAY BIRB

.looks like a birb

. gay

. dating a dead bitch with stitches

. very kawaii

. Kinda dumb

. A lot of dumb actually

. Forgot to wear pants once

NUMBER FOUR: RANDOM DEAD GUY

. is dead

. is gay, blue, dead, and has stitches

. Dating the dumb birb

. he smokes to forget, but he always remembers

. single-handedly keeping all the tobacco companies in business

. His lungs and kidneys are completely fucking shot

. Would die if he wasn’t already dead

NUMBER FIVE: ANOTHER RANDOM DEAD GUY THAT SOMEHOW LOOKS EVEN MORE DEAD THAN THE OTHER ONE (BRITISH EDITION)

. Doesn’t remember shit

.he always comes back….not on purpose though, bitch doesn’t know where he is half the time

. Fucks hard with Tapioca pudding

. the kids steal his dementia pills because it’s funny

. thinks he’s hot as fuck and his accent makes him better than you

. likes to tell everyone stories of his time and how much better things were and how much better he is

. Homophobic but is also manifesting the homosexuality ✨

Yes, this is technically a shitpost…… but ya know what? The creeps are in it so….. I didn’t lie about the creep content coming first!

[rappaccini]

hi im just a rando that somehow arrived at your blog, but i just wanted to say that i am FROTHING at the mouth for your spider-gwen takes (also just read your fic rachnophobia!! it was super good and so frifgin cathartic). your analyses are just so so ridiculously good. they put into words every thing i felt when i first read the spider-gwen comics when i was much younger and couldn't read between the lines (sitting in a tree was so icky and i didn't know why, even murderdock has more chemistry with gwen).

i don't really know how asks work on your blog so sorry if im intruding/being a bother, but if it's not too much i want to hear more on your take for gwen and murderdock's relationship (you know that one scene where gwen almost kills murderdock and they have a talk before gwen dimension hops), it left such an imprint on my mind, but their dynamic isn't talked about nearly enough for my taste.

(also totally unrelated but gwen-65 and the Mary Janes reminds me of dazey and the scouts + mommy long legs 🧍)

hello! no problem re: the asks, you're not intruding at all.

and like. fuck yeah let's talk about murdock. let's unpack the insane psychosexual obsession matt murdock 65 has with gwen.

putting aside the tiny things like him earnestly loving the mary janes' singles, or matt and gwen having the same catholic guilt haunting their subconsciouses, or him having a situationship with the woman who would've become spider-woman if gwen hadn't gotten bitten instead, and discarding that woman for gwen...

it makes me insane that he's a reluctant villain who was pressganged into joining the hand as a kid, who despite excelling at it, hates his job so much that he's preparing to kill himself and the only thing that stops him from going through with it is seeing (... 'seeing') spider-woman.

just knowing that she exists makes him want to live. the only reason why he's still getting up and going through the day is because he wants to see her, and be close to her. he wants to get to know her, and teach her. he wants her at his side. he straight-up admits at the tail end of the life of gwen stacy that the only reason why he hasn't ditched dimensions with his stolen portal watch is that he's staying for her and that matters more to him than his work, his reputation or his life.

like he looooves her. but in an extremely fucked-up, possessive way. that on a personal level, is a deadringer for the way an abuser loves their victim. on a thematic level, is symbolic of the patriarchy gwen's up against, and on a meta level, of all the men, real and symbolic, who keep the character of gwen stacy trapped in an awful narrative.

on the surface, his actions towards her do read like he's protecting her. he orders a hit on captain stacy to demand the cops leave spider-woman alone. he turns up at george's house when he deduces gwen's identity to tell him to his face that he knows their secret, that he isn't a worthy mentor or protector figure for gwen, and offer his legal services. he makes an offer of mentorship to gwen because he wants her to be a better fighter, and actually attempts to train her. he has a pack of ninjas dispatched to follow her around and protect her. he makes enemies of other villains to protect her secret identity. he refuses to kill her (... because tbh if she's dead he'd probably just kill himself). he's like a creepy villainous suitor.

(... @ the spiderverse migwen stans, read her comics. matt murderdock and gwen are literally everything you think miguel and gwen are doing, but it's actually canon.) matt doesn't want to be her dad. he wants to be her daddy.

but to be clear his intentions for her were never good. he's not misunderstood, or seeking redemption. before he's committed to goading her into killing him, his dynamic with gwen is still fundamentally abusive. he inserts himself into her life and turns up at her house uninvited. he isolates her from her friends and family. he has her jumped, beaten to a pulp and humiliated when he 'mentors' her. he lets the cops continue to chase after her to make her feel anxious and disillusioned even though he has the power to shut down her case at any time. that ninja bodyguard outfit is really there to report on her to him, and are not-so-subtly out to kill harry, her kind-of-love interest (... and therefore matt's rival). he sics hitmen on them when they run away together.

yeah, he doesn't want anyone to hurt her... unless he has allowed it. he doesn't see her as an equal, he wants her to serve him. he doesn't want her dead, but that's only because if she dies, then he doesn't get to screw with her anymore. he wants to possess and control her.

the entire power-up pill arc reads like he's her wealthy, older abusive boyfriend who keeps her coming back to him with his resources (she desperately needs his legal counsel when her father's in jail)... and with drugs. he even describes their relationship like he's a drug she can't quit. he loves that she's dependent on him for her power-ups and gives them to her as rewards for obedience and associating with him.

which is all but confirmed when sitting in a tree juxtaposes matt with miles. both of these guys are attracted to gwen in a shallow way she fundamentally does not return, both see her as a symbol instead of a person. (look at how he talks about her:)

and both are offering her a relationship with them that'll lead to her having an easy fix to being persecuted on her homeworld, and power on the surface but little agency in reality. they don't love gwen, they love spider-woman; they want a powerful trophy girlfriend who can reassure them that selling their souls was worth it.

and she rebuffs them both. she sidesteps miles and runs away from murdock at the same time, even, in the predators arc. (... and does so by running off with harry, the only straight guy who's into gwen who actually gives a shit about her feelings and respects her boundaries.)

and murdock loses it. he goes full if-i-can't-have-you-no-one-can and has the venom symbiote created specifically to drive her out of control for good. he's preparing to dose her with the hard stuff, to keep her totally dependent on him and break her will.

not by killing her; by psychologically breaking her down. he wants a symbolic murder-suicide. the way he saw it, if he convinced gwen to go villain, then he has a little companion to be evil with, and she can reassure him that his terrible actions are unavoidable and natural.

... and if she kills him, then he's still corrupted her and he doesn't have to live with himself anymore. he can die knowing he's permanently changed her for the worse, that she'll never outrun the effect he had on her, and that he doesn't have to deal with the consequences.

and to top it all off, at the end of the run (aka when the writer knew he was getting canned and could just fucking go for it), matt straight-up confirms that his interest in her is sexual. it's not subtle.

"my dick is on fire. and here you are: moth to my flame." sir.

see how the moth/flame reference happens twice? it's a callback to him referring to the symbiote as a way to sap harry's powers out of him. a 'moth to a flame.' so uh. textually, he sees a sexual relationship with gwen as a way to further depower her. and he would have started one after gwen took on the symbiote and was fully out of control (and after harry was taken from her. one more layer of humiliation). she barely got out of there in time.

yeah uh now we have go back and to reexamine the whole power-up arc with the knowledge that if gwen hadn't left him when she did, he would have started sexually abusing her. he wasn't just grooming her to be his evil apprentice. he was, you know, grooming her.

look back. it's all there. look at how he's always touching her as she's squirming away from him, even in broad daylight in front of cops he has on his payroll, or even her own dad.

look at the double entendre in gwen acknowledging in predators that he literally wants her on her knees in front of him. look at all of his talk about 'teaching' her things might have nothing to do with combat. look at how he became infatuated with her when she was underage and does not care that she's barely nineteen and he's in his thirties, or that she's completely indifferent to his advances and may be queer.

[sidebar: look at how felicia hardy and kitty pryde are also young women with superpowers and complex issues with their fathers, and are canonically bi in 616, who are pressured into compromising situations by murdock that lead to their villainy and imprisonment. he has a pattern of behavior. gwen isn't unique to him, she's just his newest plaything.]

look at how gwen's so viscerally disgusted by him that she can't stop venom from popping out when she has to touch him.

there's a Lot to unpack there.

through the entire latour run, gwen's dodging unwanted and harmful affection from men-- peter the incel who tries to kill everyone when she isn't into him, harry the ex who loves gwen and wants to punish her for what she did to peter (... but realizes he was wrong and redeems himself), rhino the villain of the week who gropes her during their fight, miles the Nice Guy who wants to take her away from everyone she loves and turn her into a trophy girlfriend who makes his spiderbabies, the dozens of spider-men who see her as a vessel for girlfriend trauma venting. and matt, as her nemesis, is the ultimate culmination of all of that put together. he's a groomer and an abuser to his core.

which makes the way gwen deals with him all the more poignant: after trying to evade, work with and placate him for her entire run, and finally snapping and turning on him, she has him on his knees. not because she personally has defeated him, though she did kick his ass-- because the system he's destroying himself to support has discarded him after eating him alive.

she doesn't try to See The Good In Him, she acknowledges that there simply isn't any. he isn't misunderstood, he isn't a woobie, he's absolutely not sexy or alluring. he was never cool or badass. his tragic past doesn't justify the harm he's done in the present. he doesn't have anything valuable to teach her and he never would have protected her. he's a pathetic little man who tries on personas to hide his sense of inadequacy and could have always risen above his circumstances to be a better person but simply chose not to.

(... tiring of the fandom to not pick up on any of this and treat murdock like a badass. he wasn't. that's the point.)

she doesn't kill him, she leaves him behind to presumably be arrested, tried, jailed and have to live with himself in the way he never ever wanted to. no more personas to hide behind, no more wealth or followers he can use to bully people. he's in hell, just not the one he was hoping for.

and she never interacts with him again.

he's just an absolutely incredible villain for gwen. his relationship with gwen works to activate her redemption and evolution into a full hero; gwen's entire latour arc is about grappling with the consequences of her irresponsible and selfish behavior. like matt, she's done some terrible shit, is tied up with bad people, and hates herself for it. but unlike matt, she wants to be a better person and puts in the work to do it.

he's a physical representation of the meta forces that are holding gwen stacy the character back: men who see gwen herself not as a person but as a sex object that can make them look impressive or feel less inadequate, who want to deny her any agency or her own relationships, and take them away when she does obtain them, so they can make her all about them. and who only see her power as something annoying that should be stripped from her so she can be an accessory to a more powerful man, or as a fun bonus feature that can only be used for that man's advancement. the character of gwen stacy is literally stuck in a cycle of abuse where she's killed, resurrected, killed again, and never gets a break. and spider-gwen breaks it, not by existing-- by putting in the work to give herself a narrative that frees her from that status quo.

watching gwen's relationship with murdock evolve solidifies the symbolic narrative about patriarchy running through the entire run.

(we watched matt be absorbed into a violent, male-dominated system against his will as a young boy, and consciously choose to keep perpetuating it, even though it makes him miserable to the point of wanting to die. and the thing that makes him buy in fully is the idea that hey, he might be miserable, but if he gets a girl to submit to him, he can take out that misery on her, gain status for having her under his control, and use her to advance that agenda against others.)

we watched gwen, as a young, naive girl, try to avoid the patriarchy entirely and girlboss her way through life, insisting that she can do whatever she wants because she has powers.

we watched her get the shit kicked out of her in her origin story when it caught up with her, cornered her, and she realized she wasn't the exception. and murdock is the source of this realization because he's the one who instigates the hit on george stacy that causes her to reveal her identity to him.

in the power up pill and sitting in a tree arcs, we watched her literally flirt with the idea of selling out to it, and try to work with it when it offers her special privileges for doing so (cough gwiles cough)

in predators, we watched gwen realize any safety or special treatment it offers her is bullshit and the cost of playing along will violate and destroy everyone she cares about and her most of all

in gwenom, we watched her embrace her most uninhibited self and attack it head-on

in the life of gwen stacy, we watched her realize that a full awakening means embracing other women, and taking responsibility for protecting them and her community, rather than simply beating the thing oppressing her until it's dead

we watched her call it and all its enforcers and believers who still cling to it useless little bitches and turn her back on them for good.

this is the gwen that gets away from the male gaze. (or at least she was. thanks spiderverse.)

and even though gwen's defeated murdock, his influence lives on.

gwen's constantly dealing with villains who are attracted to her, whose attraction to her is the basis of their violence towards her (peter 65, harry and em jay for a time, rhino, matt, jackal, maybe johnny storm if the mcguire run hadn't been canned).

she's constantly being knocked around the multiverse and shoved towards miles with a kiss-me sign around her neck because of the same possessive patriarchal bullshit that matt tried to impose on her.

she has serious intimacy issues, particularly with romance. she's flighty, she can't commit, she excuses toxic behavior in em jay, she can't stand up for herself around miles or peter and deny their advances bluntly, she's constantly on this carousel of nearly coming out of the closet and ducking back in.

and though much of this, in-universe, stems from her knowledge of gwen stacy's role in the multiverse, murdock's psychosexual obsession with her is the direct visceral source of that trauma on a personal level. and she hasn't really unpacked this.

he still looms large in her subconscious in a way that no other villain has ever matched. thank you for letting me soapbox about this.

[hopelessdelusional]

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

You turned off the engine of the car, taking in the area that surrounded you and your best friend. You knew that Kaminari had been able to make a career off of just YouTube alone but this exceeded your expectations as to how he lived. Sure it wasn’t the most impressive neighborhood you’ve been invited to, but it sure as hell didn’t seem like a neighborhood you or Hitoshi could afford to live at in this moment in your lives.

You take a breath, then turn to Hitoshi who was busying himself on his phone, probably being too invested by people arguing on twitter.

“Hey.”

His brown eyes were suddenly looking into your eyes, there was an anxious look in his eyes, but he hid it well. Hitoshi rose an eyebrow at you, probably already annoyed by the fact that he knows you’re going to say something that might make him feel emotions.

“Thank you for coming with, I love you.”

A small blush fell on his cheeks before he reached out and shoved your face away from him. You started laughing at his emotional constipation, which only made him continue to mess with you. You were quickly able to get his hands away from you, just one of the pros of why you go to the gym. The two of you headed out of the car and walked up the driveway, making small comments about the interesting decorations that littered the front porch. In a way it reminded you of the shared home you had with Hitoshi, admiring the pride flag that hung proudly blowing in the wind. Hitoshi rang the doorbell, and after hearing an absurd amount of noise coming from the other side of the door (Taylor’s version from the vault) the door swung right open.

“Hey y/n!”

Kaminari had a wide grin on his face, and was wearing black sweatpants and a band t-shirt. You quickly greeted the blond back, before squinting at his shirt to get a better look. Your eyes widened as a sly smile spread across your face realizing it was a Foo Fighters shirt, knowing that was one of Hitoshi’s favorite bands. You were tempted to point it out for your best friend but you made the conclusion that even if you said something you didn’t think either of them would notice.

To say that Kaminari had heart eyes, was an understatement. You don’t think you’ve even seen someone in a rom-com look that head over heals, and of course looking at your best friend you swear you could see hearts circling around Hitoshi’s head.

“Hey Shinsou, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“You can call me Hitoshi.”

To a stranger, Hitoshi maybe just looked a little off his game, but after knowing this man for seven years you could easily tell how flustered he truly was. Kaminari was flushed with a big goofy grin on his face while Hitoshi’s posture was unlike you’ve ever seen him stand. It was pretty funny, seeing them give each other heart eyes.

“Oh, well uhm Hitoshi-“

“Hey Guys! Welcome to the crib!”

Kirishima, as loud and energetic as ever, popped up out of what seemed like nowhere. He was wearing gym clothes, athletic shorts and a tank top, but from what you can tell that’s probably just what his entire closet is full of. Kirishima’s grin stretched across his face with his arm draping around Kaminari. Though there was a sudden interruption, Kaminari didn’t seem to want to look away, while Hitoshi started to look away and peek into the home.

“How many people are here right now?”

You watched as Kaminari’s face fell, his love trance quickly falling, suddenly nervous to make Hitoshi uncomfortable.

“Yeah oh god y/n I completely forgot to tell you.”

You were honestly surprised that Kaminari would be taking to you again. You smiled politely grabbing for Hitoshi’s arm to keep him from bursting into the house uninvited. Hitoshi has a habit of not caring what others think of him, not that you think Kaminari would care. The blond would probably let Hitoshi do whatever he wanted and he would still be looking at your best friend like he was the only thing that matters in the world.

“It’s okay, you gave me a heads up beforehand. Now, can we come in?”

Kaminari’s face flushed, shoving Kirishima out of the way making you snort. You let go of Hitoshi and let him go in first, following close behind him.

Immediately you found ruby red eyes glaring into yours. It was almost laughable how quickly you spotted him, and as soon as you found comfortable eye contact he looked away.

You rolled your eyes. You should have known better he wouldn’t actually act like he knows you, especially because just a couple weeks ago your tongue was practically in his throat.

“Hey y/n! Shinsou! Come sit with us!”

Mina was sitting on the floor, back to the couch with Sero sitting on the couch behind her. You honestly have never really talked to Sero, but he always seemed like the kind of person you could come up to and strike up a conversation with no problem.

This time around, Hitoshi stays behind you, letting you make the first move. You wanted to laugh at how awkward the two of you were being, desperately hoping that they didn’t notice.

After a little more small talk, you all were able to sit around the coffee table, keeping your distance with Bakugou, and open up your laptop and start up the editing software.

“Holy shit! I forget how beautiful Katsuki is!”

It seemed those words left Kaminari’s mouth before he thought through the consequences of what could happen. Immediately the whole room bursted into laughter. Bakugou’s face went bright red, but you were probably the only person to notice because your eyes immediately fell to his figure when Kaminari made that comment. He caught you staring, but you challenged him with keeping eye contact and a wild smile.

“Yeah he’s definitely perfect for his job.” You kept eye contact, enjoying how his blush became more apparent.

His friends made a couple more jokes, but Kaminari quickly recovered and started to talk you through editing. Hitoshi sat on the chair behind you while you and Kaminari sat on the floor. Hitoshi and Kaminari were obnoxiously flirting the entire time, and you soon noticed that Kirishima and Mina also seemed to be head over heels with each other.

Besides all the flirting, it really was a nice time. Having serious conversations about your job and being able to talk to people who actually seemed to be interested in you. You also worried that they wouldn’t get you and Hitoshi’s rude comments or dry humor, but thankfully the two of you fit right in.

You noticed Bakugou seemed to get more and more comfortable, being able to read his body language throughout the hang out. Watching his biceps flex underneath his cuffed t-shirt sleeve, even enjoying the fact he was wearing (gray) sweatpants.

Suddenly, the fact that you’ve been so bold hits you like a punch to the gut and you feel yourself get shy. You weren’t interested in a relationship right now. Especially not with your client that the only spark you created was when the two of you were drunkenly making out at a party like a couple of horny high schoolers.

“Hey y/n did you know that Katsuki can cook?”

You snapped out of your inner thoughts, turning your head to Mina and the wicked smile she was shooting you. You cocked an eyebrow at her, putting your elbow up on Hitoshi’s lap behind you. He immediately put his hands on your arm, fiddling with the bracelets on your wrist.

“Wow so he can pose in front of a camera and make a meal? Now that’s a whole package.”

Kaminari and Sero were giggling like a kid. You honestly were enjoying how well this evening was going, especially how happy your best friend seemed to be.

Mina chuckled at your comment but continued. “It’s more than a meal y/n, it’s an experience.”

Her smile was wide, and there was a sparkle in your eye as she leaned toward you. When Kirishima came into the house with you, he stole Sero’s spot behind Mina, making him able to take her shoulders and lean her away.

You smiled gently at their domestic lifestyle, then turned to Bakugou.

“You wanna show me what you got?”

Thirty minutes later, filled with constant bickering between you and the ash blond, dinner was on the table for your friends. The two of you served something simple yet delicious, panang curry. Everyone seemed very happy for actual food in front of them, and the whole group ate so much they were scraping the food off their plate. You and Bakugou shared a small victory smile, and you soon realized how well you two work together.

Throughout the process of making the food, Bakugou always had something to say at your style of cooking, but you did catch him looking at how you did certain things. Besides that fact, it was quite nice being able to cook with someone who didn’t have a chance to burn down the whole house (aka your entire friend group), and being able to watch everyone interact with each other and yourself. Sero was sat in a seat that made him closer to you, starting up casual conversation with you. You couldn’t say you didn’t blame him, given the fact that Mina and Kirishima were annoyingly flirting, along with now Hitoshi and Kaminari. However, you felt as if you were possibly doing the same with the so-called cook that was right next to you. There was plenty of space for the two of you to be far away from each other and not brushing hands by accident, but you always found Bakugou right next to you. His body heat radiating off of him and onto you. You unwillingly thought of what it would like to be with him, your delusional mind making up some sort of fantasy living with him and doing this every night. You desperately shooed that thought away, not wanting to catch feelings for him. You had been through so much this past year, you didn’t want all your hard work to be ruined by some relationship. You were the type to put your all into someone, and somehow it always ended up with you being heart broken.

“I knew that Denki had a thing for purple hair over there, but I didn’t think it was that sickening.”

Bakugou’s voice was low, head down but near you so you could hear. The two of you decided to clean up the mess you made, wiping the counter and washing the dishes. The group insisted on helping out but you and Bakugou made them sit and watch the movie they picked out. Turns out neither you or Bakugou enjoyed the movie so it worked out. (You decided not to think about that yet another common interest you two shared).

You smiled at his comment, grateful that someone else noticed how disgustingly in love they seemed.

“I always had a thought Toshi liked Kaminari, but I never pushed it because he isn’t really the type to talk about feelings like that, so I never asked.”

Your focus was on the dish in your hands, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed Bakugou’s head rise to look at you.

“Really? Little miss ‘let’s make a dream board on how I feel about this certain color’ is best friends with someone who doesn’t like to talk about his feelings?”

His words were teasing, but just like that conversation a couple days ago in the meeting room, his tone was curious, wanting to know more.

You just chuckled, putting the plate on the drying rack next to the sink. You watched as Bakugou moved to the oven, where there were towels resting on the handle. It honestly cracked you up to see the built, handsome and ever stoic man with using a dish towel that said “when in doubt, pull out” with an oven on it but clearly the boys bought it for a completely different reason. You made a mental note to ask the boys where they got it from.

“Well you know what they say Bakugou, opposites attract.”

You smiled sweetly at him, but not really thinking about him. Your mind went back to the first day you and your best friend met.

It was the summer before college, you were moving in early because you were desperate to leave the house. Turns out your roommate and soon to be close friend, Ochako, had the same idea. The two of you got along very quickly, and she soon explained to you that her friend group from high school were still very close and she asked you if you wanted to hang out with them. You were not yet the person you were today, still shy and an anxious mess. You felt as if that idea was a bad one. You feared that you would be awkward and out of place the whole time. Let’s be honest, an entire friend group that can survive high school and still want to hang out together were very close. You felt as if you’d be interrupting those good vibes and would stick out like a sore thumb. However, that was when you realized Ochako was a very persuasive person, and somehow you found yourself at a small coffee shop with six other people. At the time, Izuku and Shoto were a new couple, and Momo and Jirou weren’t even together, neither was Ochako and Tenya.

Then, there was Hitoshi. Ochako explained that he came in a little later, someone Izuku had to practically force to hang out with them. Surely but slowly the two of you gravitated together, the more Ochako invited you to hang out with them, the more you and Hitoshi were able to form a friendship. Soon enough, the two of you started to hang out on your own, having much more in common than you thought.

The two of you went through hell together, surviving petty fights, miscommunications, and having to deal with each others toxic partners at the time. It scared you shitless when you felt as if you were going to lose him. Though he wasn’t big on feelings, he always put that aside and reassured you.

Your eyes found him sitting on the couch, looking much more comfortable than he did when the two of you first arrived. You felt your heart swell, so happy that you were lucky enough to have someone like that in your life, and most importantly that he was happy and safe.

You turned back to Bakugou, now handing him another dish. There was a different look in his eyes that you couldn’t say you recognized.

“Yeah?” He whispered, making you aware of the comment you made about you and Hitoshi’s relationship.

“Yeah,” you said back, but more nonchalant. “And that’s what’s going to make Kaminari and Hitoshi such an amazing couple.”

You went back to doing the dishes, wanting to keep talking so you can distract yourself from thinking about the way Bakugou looked at you. “I can’t believe they’ve been secretly pining over each other for ten fucking years, I mean come on, that’s just pathetic.”

Bakugou snorted, allowing you to fathom that he was next to you, towel on his shoulder leaning on the counter with his arms crossed which perfectly showed just how ripped he is. You felt a little claustrophobic at this sudden closeness, but the demon on your shoulder convinced you to stay within this close proximity that the blond created.

“Yeah, having to watch all these idiots fall in love with each other. Including your idiots.”

You allowed yourself to laugh at that, but it also made you not able to be that close to Bakugou. So, you shoved a pan into his chest and made him put it away. You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your face flush. His smell still lingered around you, leaving you to remind yourself just how addicting that smell was.

“It was quite painful to see Ochako and Tenya in the same room as each other. I mean it was just so obvious!”

In the middle of your frustration, because your hands were still wet from washing dishes, water splashed everywhere, including the man standing next to you. His face wrinkled immediately, you had to cover your mouth in order to keep in the laughter that would surely shake the house. There was no better description of his face other than a cat getting flicked by water. It was just so funning to see a man who looked like that look so…cute.

“And that’s why you shouldn’t stand so close to me.”

You were able to compose yourself from laughter and embarrassment, using Bakugou’s towel to dry your hands. He huffed at you, and snatched the towel away from you to dramatically wipe his face. Because your friends were still watching the movie you wanted to stay quiet, you had to lean over to cover your face to make your laughter quieter. Without even realizing it, you leaned forward into Bakugou’s chest, your face literally being smothered by him. You wanted to panic, but you were still giggling so you stayed there for a couple more moments. Finally catching a breath, you were able to resort back to your normal posture, now being able to see Bakugou’s face. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were bright red, but he had the smallest smile at your uncontrollable giggling. Jokingly, you shoved him away, busying yourself in an attempt to not fully comprehend what has just happened.

“So how were you when we were in high school? Any annoying relationships?”

His voice wobbled a bit, but he played it cool. Obviously that stunt you pulled also affected him.

“Oh you know, I grew up in the south so there wasn’t many dating options. I actually had to lower my standards in order to ‘get some.’

You rolled your eyes as you thought back to all the people you dated, and for some reason continued to talk out loud.

“I dated like two guys in high school, both traumatized me to the bone. As for girls, I never actually officially ‘dated’ them because, you know, homophobia.”

Your hands moved as you explained the sad stories of your dating life, worried that you were being annoying. However you glanced at Bakugou and realized that he was staring at you with that look in his eyes again, having fully caught his attention with your blabbering.

“Had a couple of situationships with girls, it was so awful. It made me so frustrated that we couldn’t just date, you know? And the college happened and I officially dated a girl, and it was good until she cheated on me, with her ex.”

Bakugou winced at that last part, and you laughed it off, regretting even telling him this. Why were you telling him this?

“But it’s okay! I met another guy and it was a really good time, we had to break up just due to a loss of spark, and after that I just…haven’t dated since. Honestly I don’t know when I want to start dating again, after all the shit I’ve been through I just can’t risk dating right now.” You chuckled, reminiscing all of your past exes.

However, what you didn’t realize was that Bakugou had gone stiff, taken aback by what you had just said. Suddenly, the mood in the room shifted, and Bakugou began to distance himself from you.

“What about you, man? Any crazy exes you wanna vent about?”

You turned to look at him, but his face was far away from you now, and there was a very different look set upon his face. You furrowed your eyebrows at the change in his attitude, and watched him hang up the towel.

“Nah, I’ve always been the crazy one.”

He looked back up at you, and the two of you maintained eye contact. You felt like you just lost the connection that was starting the grow between the two of you. The past hour and a half of bonding and bickering like and old married couple was now long gone, as there was an ocean between you two.

“I think I’m gonna head home, gotta get up early tomorrow.”

Before you could even think of a reply, he left, leaving you standing in the kitchen alone, feeling emotions you haven’t felt in a long time. A shiver went down your spine.

What the fuck happened?

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

enchanted

HOLY SMOKES that was a lot

y’all poor things just wanted an smau and im like making y’all read a whole ass book dear lord

my sincerest apologies, i promise the next episode will have no written content. good lord.

anyways! hope you enjoyed! a LOT went down and the plot is getting spicyyyyyy i’m excited and you should be too!!

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ updates every wednesday and sunday! happy wildest dreams wednesday ✧.*

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ TAGLIST IS OPEN just message or comment: @iiilovemilfs @0anodite0 @bakugouswh0r3 @amethyst123 @nijirosz @bakugoukatsukiwifiu @allnamesredacted @ch3rryhaze @ectoplasmictoast @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tati-the-fangirl @autumnfay @call-me-prodigy

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 34 – TONY AND THE BOTS

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT: Del_Rion

If you've always wanted to read some A-class fics about Tony and his robot children, look no further than Del_Rion's AO3 page. Their writing style is so engaging, and I love the voices they have for Tony and JARVIS especially. The dialogue is amazing, the plots are always on point, and I really, really love their sense of humor.

Here's some of their work that I think you should check out:

Spam Bot

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 1,948 Tags: BAMF Jarvis, Spam, Virtual Warfare

Summary: Even Tony Stark gets spam every once in a while – but only he has an AI that will eventually become ticked off by it, and move to do something about the issue. Or: the one time J.A.R.V.I.S. almost broke the internet.

Reasons why I love it: JARVIS really out here doing the lord's work. It's so rare that we get to see things from JARVIS' point of view, so this fic is super fun right from the get go. And what's not to love about JARVIS being on a mission to clean up the internet? It's amazing, and you should definitely read it!

Call Me by Another Name

Pairing: Gen Rating: T Words: 1,579 Tags: Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Tony Needs a Hug

Summary: Tony’s working hard, trying to bring J.A.R.V.I.S. back, but success keeps eluding him and Vision is unwittingly rubbing him the wrong way.

Reasons why I love it: Aaaah, this fic is so sad! I've always thought that the movies really gloss over Tony's loss of JARVIS, so I'm glad that we have fanfiction to work through that trauma. And this fic does an absolutely amazing job of that. I love it, and I bet you will too, so I hope you give it a shot!

The Unfortunate Burglary

Pairing: Pepper/Tony Rating: T Words: 3,338 Tags: Sleep Deprivation, Workshop Shenanigans, Home Invasion

Summary: It was a dark and stormy night when some uninvited visitors broke the work-filled chaos of Tony’s Malibu home.

Reasons why I love it: JARVIS is really kicking names and taking ass, as Mantis would say. It's super satisfying to watch him defend Tony and their home, and Tony being so blasé about the whole thing makes it even better. This fic is super fun, so if you haven't read it yet, get right on that!

The Halloween Spectacle

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 760 Tags: Halloween, Workshop Shenanigans, Humor

Summary: Pepper walks into Tony’s workshop to find the space somewhat transformed.

Reasons why I love it: Oh my god, Tony reenacting Frankenstein with his boys is the cutest fucking thing, I can't. If you need a little pick-me-up today, give this one a read, it'll definitely cheer you up.

Evolution of Warfare

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 642 Tags: Post-Iron Man 2, Reflection, Character Study

Summary: Tony reflects on how he left the weapons business behind, and how his peace-keeping efforts have actually made him a fighter.

Reasons why I love it: I really love this look inside Tony's mind and how being Ironman impacts the way he sees himself and the part he has to play in this world. Plus, the last few paragraphs about his bots always put the biggest smile on my face. Definitely read this one, it's great!

[nientedenada]

Vanus Galerion - The Latest

Today's Vanus Galerion update from the ongoing teslore/tumblr discussion. See here for first round.

Everyone on tumblr and reddit seems to have agreed that Vanus quit leading the guild and got mad at the self-serving politics of the guild before the Planemeld. He came back for the Planemeld itself. I think there are enough sources now to change the uesp order, which has his problems with the guild happening after the Planemeld. I will probably do that myself sometime this week.

Sorry, original Morrowind-era timeline. ESO came for you and fucked your shit up.

Garett-Telvanni on Reddit had some more interesting observations about how and when Vanus got re-involved in the Guild.

It's also worth noting that for most of the base game's storyline, the Mages Guild didn't do shit about the Planemeld, something about which the Fighter's Guild complained:

"Another rejection from the Mages Guild? Dark Anchors are too "pedestrian?""

Which seems weird considering how the main agents of Bal on Nirn are the Worm Cultists, led by Galerion's ex-boyfriend rival, and Galerion's own extremely anti-necromantic views (to the point of being extremely angry at Vastarie for inventing what was basically a telephone to the afterlife). Add to it how Carindon was able to form an official Mages Guild's expedition to Selene's Web, despite Vanus promising Selene that the Guild won't enter her territory uninvited. All of that, paints the picture of Vanus not having as much power in the Guild during the events of ESO as one would think, at least until the Coldharbour storyline, where he grabs them by the balls, I guess.

This makes perfect sense to me.

Unrelated, I also learnt that dev. Ted Peterson, in a non-canon roleplay, had Mannimarco decorating his hide-out with a giant statue of Vanus made out of bones.

The arch passed over to a grand boulevard leading to the plaza and the palace ahead. Even from some distance away, the group could recognize the figure represented on the still incomplete statue from his image in various Mage Guilds throughout Tamriel. It was Vanus Galerion, the founder of the Guild. "His ancient enemy immortalized in bones," the Argonian battlemage mused under her breath.

Tasteful.

[kuvvydraws]

Maybe you already answered it, but seeing the picture just posted of the gifts, how would he feel about his hand being held? Cause looking at the pic I just want to hold it

Hiya!

I briefly mentioned how he feels about hand holding here, in what you could loosely consider dating headcanons.

Then again, let me get a bit more into it because I'm fascinated by Praetorius' hands, so I perfectly understand what you mean.

He's purely a skeleton, so you can't expect much substance from him, just solidity. His hands are an attempt at both bones and tendons-like structures, all slotted into place, something akin to slabs to make his palms, and emptiness between all the elements. Both hands, like the rest of his body, are covered in chips, gashes, scars and dips and cracks... He's a fighter, and the bones reveal it. The worst cracks are so deep they glow with his marrow magic, blue and pulsating, and will likely never get healed.

Despite being the opposite of that, Praetorius feels like his hands are weak and fragile, that they have sustained too much damage to be appealing, as if the bone itself wasn't uninviting enough. His fingers are deft, and his touch is as delicate as it can be bruising. The joins crack and pop, and he has the nervous habit of tapping the pads of the phalanges with his thumb, the motion hidden behind his back in public so no one can read him.

He's not big on public displays of affection, as he doesn't want anyone picking him apart by discovering his weaknesses, and with his hands added in the mix... He's much more comfortable tucking his partner's hand into the crook of his elbow, which keeps them close and lets him free for attack and defense if need be.

In private, he would be wary and shy, but would allow exploration, even if that would make him incredibly self-conscious. He understands the fascination monster physiology entices, as they're all so different from each other, but him? He's a skeleton monster. Humans are quite familiar with what he looks like, generally speaking. And yet his mate wishes to see and touch, so who is he to not indulge that curiosity? If things become too much, he's not scared to pull everything to a stop, perhaps too overwhelmed to put it into words in the beginning. He just requires a moment to breathe - nevermind that, how he breathes... Maybe they could leave the anatomy lessons for a different day?

[freepalestinesposts]

THE SOLDIERS (fighters of the resistance movement) VS. Idf soldiers without air and tank support

A situation when arrogant slobs enter someone else's house uninvited