#which makes the fact that she finds me sexually appealing not terrifying

[lovely-delphine]

There is something honest-to-gods slightly maddening and fantastic about going from relationships that are so deeply focused on sex-as-intimacy and other forms of intimacy being rejected or looked down upon as lower or not as important to…basically the opposite of that. My previous partners were so obsessed with fucking me that they both ended up assaulting me, among other forms of mistreatment.

With my ex-boyfriend, any form of intimacy outside of sex or physical intimacy was ignored, he didn’t care. That relationship didn’t last long for a variety of reasons, though the multiple extremely violent SAs was the main one.

With my ex-wife, it was more complicated. It was like she understood my love languages were things like gift-giving, acts of service, words of affirmation, and physical touch…but only seemed to focus on the last one because that was the only one that also aligned with her. The only time I ever really felt like she even wanted me around was when physical touch was involved.

With my current girlfriend it feels a bit like the tables are turned completely around. It’s not that physical affection isn’t desired, but it’s not set upon a pedestal as the only form of love or intimacy that can be expressed. Making a cup of tea for one another is a quiet “I love you.” Talking about our interests for quite literally hours is a soft “I adore watching you speak, please don’t stop.” Enjoying a rainstorm side by side is an unspoken “I would not want to be anywhere but here, with you.” Not feeling ashamed to act silly in front of her gives me freedom to be myself rather than a meticulously curated version of myself that I’ve had to put out for partners in the past just for them to even give half of a fuck about me. Giving a thoughtful gift to her and seeing a reaction that elicits so much joy in me I nearly explode makes me feel like the effort I put into finding such a thing was worth that moment of her receiving it. I’ve never had a partner who could make me flustered just by calling me darling or kissing my hand. I’ve never had a partner where every single “I love you” feels real and full of truth, rather than hollow and just something you say to your partner because that’s what you do. Every hand hold and gentle kiss feels incredibly meaningful and special.

And sure, maybe it’s the newness of the relationship and eventually the sparkles and butterflies will settle down and these acts will become more comfortable, but even still I do not think they will lose their meaning because every action she does is with intention, she’s not going to lie or humor me to make me happier. She’s not afraid of letting me know her limits, and I don’t feel afraid to let her know mine. It’s refreshing to have a partner who REALLY understands that intimacy doesn’t only equal physical acts and it shows so fucking much in everything she does and says to me. It’s also a bit mind blowing because I’ve not had a relationship like this. There’s never a feeling like I’m beneath her. Even if I was physically beneath her (😳) I would still feel like I was her equal.

I know it’s bare minimum and sad as shit to be like “wow! A partner that respects me! This is amazing!” But that’s where I’m at. And…I am so thankful for her, for showing me what it is like to be loved right. Thank you, my love(s).

[laughterbynight]

Shower thoughts: Power, Sexuality, and Dick Grayson

Okay so to start this probably isn't exclusive to DC but that's where my experience is so that's where I'm focusing. Batfam mostly because that's my history.

*Reminder that this is a shower thought so it's not going to be essay worthy and I might miss some things.

I was thinking in the shower, as you do, and it struck me not for the first time how absurd it is that in comics it seems like power when it comes to women is equated with sex, as in looking more appealing to men. It made me wonder if, beyond blatant sexism, maybe there's a disconnect here where part of power fantasies for men is to be desired by women. If so, that could be part of why so many men assume that a woman's power fantasy means being more fuckable to men.

Now, I would be preaching to the choir here on tumblr to explain how backassward this is and that power fantasies mean POWER regardless of sex or gender and that how men portraying themselves as attractive is different than how they portray women as attractive. I mean there's a good chance you've already seen this discourse ages ago and we're on roughly the same page. That's some solid 2014-2016 discourse.

Instead I want to talk about how this manifests for Dick Grayson, because he's one of the few (maybe only?) male characters in DC that gets sexualized in the same way women do. He's also one of the few to have been raped because of it, which felt deliberate when I was standing in the shower contemplating this whole thing. I doubt the writer would fess up to that and I know a lot of us just completely delete that moment from his history, but if I'm pulling that incident out of the canon and just looking at it on it's own I think it very much speaks to how men perceive attraction in men and how they see it in women (and yes I know a woman wrote that scene but you can still subscribe to sexism as a woman).

To be a powerful woman in the eyes of a man is also to be fuckable, but that also means you're prime real estate for sexual trauma and being dominated, because you can't be sexual and safe and liberated. You have to be punished for it and degraded and traumatized. I think that's what happened to Dick. I think he fell too close to how women are sexualized and the instinct on the part of a writer in a field that pretty much promotes sexism was to hurt Dick for being liberated and sexual and a positive character (because how dare he be sexual and a positive role model!). And maybe even that is giving too much credit but the alternative is that he's just so sexy it's okay to rape him and that's...yeah. Anyway-

Kori (Starfire) is another character who is wildly sexually liberated by the standards of comics and we know her story. She was introduced with the backstory of assault because sexy, which is just so fucked. It really paints a picture. Even beloved manly Batman has been subject to this (Damian's origin before other writers started trying to smooth that over). Again, sexually liberated character = must be violated. The difference here is it's not even acknowledged with Bruce. Actually not really with Dick either. So we have another layer to that whole thing with how men should react to assault, as well.

Frankly it makes me terrified for Tim as a freshly out character (and therefore not traditionally masculine in the eyes of a lot of men). If you're unfamiliar with Midnighter and Apollo you can find out why I'm concerned by googling that. I'd rather not dive into it. I sure as fuck hope the backlash to that will dissuade anyone from putting a target on Tim but it's been a close call already.

I don't have some big conclusion here, it's just one of those things I felt like I needed to put into words. Maybe because I see so much pushback against fans for preferring to engage with fanon at this point, and while I acknowledge that it can be annoying when very basic facts are mucked up, I also can't blame anyone for wanting to avoid DC comics proper right now. Sometimes I see progress and I hope it sticks-but I think comics are still an emotionally hostile space for a lot of us and when I step back and look at characters like Dick and even the recent violation of Jason, I just sometimes wonder if the industry at large has lost the thread of superheroes in general. At the very least it's clear they're often only writing heroes for themselves because to me the DC universe would be a nightmare hellscape and it shouldn't be. Heroes are for everyone.

[turquoisebooks]

After finishing Gallant, I felt and I still feel so… touched by it. It definitely left a mark. It's an amazing peculiar YA book with a great gothic atmosphere. It´s got Coraline plus Crimson Peak vibes. Yes, give me all the half-formed ghouls haunting the hallways and the eerie undertone of a huge house called Gallant and a crumbling mansion mirroring the said house, hidden behind a wall with an iron door sealed by blood. Thanks to the fact that we spend most of the time of the book either in the girl´s school and later on in one of the versions of Gallant with Olivia and three other characters the story feels quite intimate. 

I think that Gallant is the kind of story that forces you to look deeper in order to appreciate its message which I am still not sure I fully grasped. Of course, there is a plot full of ghouls, shadows, and a rather terrifying Master of the House, but besides these ominous hauntings, the book deals with the power of belonging. The heroine Olivia is an orphan living in a Preparatory school where her mother left her when she was very young. She is an outcast - the other girls either openly avoid her or bully her - and her loneliness is everpresent. It is dark and gloomy indeed. You can almost breathe in Olivia´s longing for warmth and family. Olivia stubbornly and not exactly wisely (since her mother warned her about the house) yet understandably enough, does not want to leave the place that may turn out to be the only home she will ever know. Interestingly, Olivia doesn’t speak, yet she did not feel like a silent character to me. I think she is pretty vocal even without uttering a single word. Schwab does a great job finding ways for Olivia to express herself without speech.

Furthermore, the book is about accepting two realities at the same time. Life ends as Death is inevitable but at the same time, Death can be banished so life may continue. It is also a story about sacrifices. As we learn more of Olivia’s parents and the ordeal of the Prior family, the weight of what the family has to endure really sets in. Throughout the book, we come across several diary pages with writings and gorgeous illustrations which just enhance the remarkable story inside. Regarding Olivia, her origins, and the diary, Schwab manages to tell the same story, that of Olivia’s parents, repeatedly throughout the book, yet, there is always some new information coming to life, making it interesting enough to keep your attention.

The second half of the book being is more action-packed than the first, but it felt a little bit more… ordinary, which is probably due to understanding what was going on. The mystery simply toned down a little. Speaking of the second half, I was interested in the world beyond the wall and the Master of the House. Honestly, I imagined how it would look like if Olivia followed him to the dark side and for a moment wished it to happen. There is no romantic or sexual connection between them so this is just me wishing once to see a heroine who gets swept by the darkness luring her in.

Regarding the ending, I´ve seen someone complain that when it was done, thinking the story hadn't moved anywhere and pondering ‘what was this all for?’, but I cannot agree with that. I think that´s the point. Not everything has to move forward toward a happy ending. Sometimes, and that's what I think will appeal to those who loved The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue as I feel like both books play the same note, the ending is quite bittersweet.

Overall, If you want a book with a lot of action, this may not be the IT for you, but if you wish to dive into a very atmospheric and thought-provoking story, which is kind of based on opposites, exploring the balance between life & death, good & evil… with a very interesting heroine, Gallant is probably what you are looking for. It slowly nestled itself into the corner of my heart.

Thank you to NetGalley and Titan Books for providing me with this e-ARC.

[yunho0o0o0o]

my fic recs: a masterlist

note: most of these have been reblogged on my account, but here’s a list for convenience, author’s summary is copy and pasted here if there is one, if it’s the first in a series I recommend the whole series, I’ll probably add to this as I read more, yes i know some people are missing i just somehow didn’t have any fics in my stache that included them

A- angst, S- smut, F- fluff

Includes BTS and Ateez

BTS:

OT7:

Lost & Found (F, 1.7k) - @namjoontunes - In a world where mythical creatures like dryads and vampires are commonplace, how will a household of supernatural humanoids react to their new kitten being a shapeshifting girl?

Lilies of the Valley (A) - @girlmeetsliv3 - includes ABO, yandere themes

Sunlight (F, A, 16,5k) - @floralsuga - A soulmate. That was all you had wished for. Someone to come home to, someone to be there for you, to build a life together with. And yet you were cursed with having seven. Seven soulmates that you could not allow yourself to have.

Fading Legacies (A, 3k) - @mindays - BTS achieved everything they’d ever dreamed of, becoming world wide idols. But then the zombie apocalypse hits and it’s all they can do to survive. And they’re going to need Y/N to do it.

The Gentlemen (M, A, F, 5.2k) - @honeymoonjin - Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now! 

Ethereal Orbit (A, F, S, 1.1k) - @miamorjoon - somehow you’ve landed on this strange planet named Utepnia and you have to save their race from extinction.

Taehyung:

Chism (S, A, F, 19.9k) - @kpopfanfictrash - The entirety of your life, you have never fit in. A woman soldier. A passive power, wielded in the land of the bold. Despite this, you have followed your father’s advice and striven to blend into the crowd. You feel you have succeeded, until your Queen calls you before her with an arduous task. Guard the darkest cell in the lowest dungeon. Do not listen to what the prisoner has to say and above all else, keep your head. The old gods may be dead, but the humans are living.

Beastly Gods (M, A?, F, 8k) - @lemonjoonah - ‘Don’t leave the forest,’ a rule that you've been forced to follow since birth, but you are tired of living in this wooden cage. Out of desperation you cut a deal with Taehyung, who claims to be the only one who can get you out safely, even though he might be just as dangerous as the god you’re trying to escape.

Teach Me Dirty (S, 2.9k) - @forgottenpasta - Taehyung has a lot to teach his English teacher. Fortunately for him, you’re an eager and willing pupil.

Hoseok:

World of Pride (A, F?, 5.2k) - @an-ambivalent - artificial intelligence hoseok, includes yandere themes, your father created an AI to protect you when he’s gone

Yoongi:

Make Me (S, F, 4.4k) - @ppersonna - an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

Lineage (M, S, 6.7k) - @kosmosguk - When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Switching Places (F, 1.7k) - @ijungkooki - soulmate au where you switch places with your soulmate at random times

Jin:

Scopophilic Affection (M, F, 7.8k) - @bibbykins - Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure. 

Jungkook:

Shadow (2.2k) - @yoonologue - Shadow has been on the run her whole life. Her survival depended on her keeping her mouth shut and staying hidden. If she didn't then she would be captured and used as a pawn to do their bidding. But it seemed that her heart did not seem to understand that. She had never been able to ignore a person in need. She never had a problem before, but it seems that her luck had run out. Now she was left with scraped hands and unconscious boy that was too nosy for his own good.

Asterismos (A, F, S, 7.1k) - @hobiance - As far as you’re concerned, things like magic, prophecies, and fate are nothing more than fairytales. But when you accidentally bind your soul to a mysterious amulet you found at an antique shop, a group of seven warriors from a magical world inform you that you now hold the key to saving them all. The fate of the realm Elodia now rests in your hands, and you realize that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Sweets (F, 4.2k) - @worldwidemochiguy - in which jungkook steals your lip balm and perfume instead of talking to you, you leave a post-it note with your number on it for the strange thief who only seems to take the most inexplicable items and has a strange sense of responsibility for your wellbeing, and the cute boy in your photography class with the fluffy hair and the oversized sweater keeps getting more and more endearing… , includes yandere themes

Pen Pal (A, 5.3k) - @chinkbihh - As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you.  In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook.  The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad., includes yandere themes

Quarter Quell (11.2k) - @chinkbihh - includes yandere themes, you are selected as a tribute for the next quarter quell (hunger games au), the volunteer from district two seems to have an unhealthy obsession with you

Haunted (A, S, 14.1k) - @mint-yooxgi - you move into a new house without knowing it’s already occupied, includes yandere themes, ghost! jungkook

ATEEZ:

OT8:

All Eyes On Me (S, A, F, 3.5k) - @atiny-piratequeen - member x member, not an x reader, yeosang focused, Yeosang is a very shy man. Everyone knows this.But he’s fed up of his shyness and insecurities being the reason he’s left out of sexual activities from the others. He wants them to look at him like they look at each other

Mingi:

Two is Better Than One (ft. Yunho) (S, F, 4.2k) - @mingishoe - a threesome with your boyfriend sub! Yunho and dom! Mingi

Yunho:

Two is Better Than One (ft. Mingi) (S, F, 4.2k) - @mingishoe - a threesome with your boyfriend sub! Yunho and dom! Mingi

Bassists Do It Deeper (S, 6.3k) - @luvteez - while using what you thought was your brother’s laptop you find a search history full of exhibitionism, only to find out you’ve been using one belonging to Yunho, the newest bandmate and your childhood enemy

Shower Sex (ft. Seonghwa) (S) - @atothetiny - after a long day at work you decide to join your boyfriend in the shower

San:

First Time With San (S, F, 3.5k) - @call-me-bha -  Choi San, recognized as sex on legs among fans, was exactly-if not more- truthful to his reputation, and you quickly discovered that from the beginning of your relationship with him. In fact, you were about to find out about how much that name was made for him.

Seonghwa:

Truth or Dare (ft. Jaehyun and Johnny from NCT) (S, 6.2k) - @domjaehyun - playing truth or dare with your boyfriend and two guys you’ve hooked up with in the past when they propose a different kind of game

Focus (S) - @yeosangs-horizon - you and seonghwa try cockwarming in the study room, includes a little size kink

Shower Sex (ft. Yunho) (S) - @atothetiny - after a long day at work, you decide to join. your boyfriend in the shower

Yeosang:

Listen (F, 3k) - @mingishoe - You can hear every song your soulmate does, yours just happens to listen to the same song on repeat… for days.

Wooyoung:

Talkative (S) - @needyateez - when your car dies you’re forced to accept help from your enemy, Wooyoung, however things turn a different way than either of you were expecting

Hongjoong:

Miss (S) - @mingi-baby - sub hongjoong calling you miss

[indianamoonshine]

Chapter 7 | Superman (Ice Cream)

Summary: Every summer you work on your father’s strawberry farm with your three sisters. It’s a way to take a break from the big city but summers in the midwest are hot and they linger. This year, your father’s old and mysterious friend shows up to stay on your land for a reason yet to be determined. Din Djarin seems dangerous, but kind enough, and the two of you quickly become…well, let’s fact it…smitten.

Rating: (+18) for future and explict sexual content.

A/N: Hi friends! This chapter isn't as long as the others, but I've already got a head start on the next one!

Warnings: I can't find anything in this short chapter that would trigger anybody, so yay!

One can tell a lot about a person by their choice of ice cream.

For instance: Rhea likes honey flavored. It’s a rarity, but Scoops specializes in it. It meant she was sweet, though refined, and organic in these regards. Charlotte prefers amaretto fudge which implies she is a hopeless romantic and the kind of woman who loves vintage films (that alone says quite a bit). You prefer Superman. Maybe that meant the obvious; you’re the youngest and a little bit of a fledgling with a silly sense of humor. You like to be doused in color and leave a sweet taste on people’s lips (some say you’d do anything to please and they could be right).

And Din, well, you were surprised to find that Din ordered sherbert; raspberry and just one scoop. When you questioned his choice (not to say sherbert wasn’t tasty, but at an ice cream parlor it just felt wrong) he justified it by saying he didn’t like the texture of ice cream. Ice cream reminds me of snot, he says to you. You still haven’t gotten that out of your head (and was a bit turned off when you received your cone because of it).

Scoops is in the next town over. It’s a tourist town full of counter-culture fanatics and overlooks the stunning landscape of Lake Michigan. The beach is always packed with families toting cheap red coolers or wild young adults slathered in sunscreen. The air is light and clean with no trace of salt, but it’s a glorious kind of smell you’ve never been able to describe. Lake Michigan is something of mystery – after all, it’s one of the biggest freshwater lakes in the world -- but its appeal might be because it’s watched you grow throughout the years. The great body of water is something of a deity, all-powerful and all-encompassing in its compassion and protectiveness.

The weather is still scorching, but while the ice cream helps, it melts quickly. Along the boardwalk where Scoops is located are dozens of shops all lined up in a neat row and bustling with smiling people, laughing with one another, and arms weighed down with chic looking boutique bags. Most of the population is wealthy because of its tourism and the ridiculous economic situation, so this comes as no surprise. Charlotte and Rhea fawn over the window displays, pointing out which expensive items of clothing they wish they could afford.

Charlotte squeals upon seeing a sundress with a silhouette that she couldn’t possibly deny; Rhea agrees enthusiastically. While they gaggle, you keep your eyes on some birds that dive for pieces of corn dogs fallen upon the walkway. There was a lot going on so it was only natural that your brain retreat to idle, given that you had little to no spending money in general.

“We have to go in,” Charlotte sings to Rhea. “We have to. I need it.”

Rhea admits that she couldn’t pass up the chance either but promises she wouldn’t buy the same dress. The two of them invite both you and Din inside, but you shake your heads, eager of the idea to be alone with one another. It was a risky thing, especially considering how your feelings for Din exposed themselves upon your face like traffic signs. While your sisters certainly knew of your schoolgirl crush on Din, they’ve made no indication they suspect Din of reciprocating those feelings. How embarrassing for you.

When the girls are out of view, door closing behind them with a ring of a silver bell, Din immediately turns to you with a grin. It’s a slight grin – the kind you wouldn’t have been able to notice had it not been for your keen observation of him. His thoughts, actions, and feelings show upon his face like a stroke patient’s might – a little lopsided and faint, but still genuine. You can’t help but wonder why he’s so hesitant to show any exuberant display around anyone else. Did that have anything to do with his family? Any past relationships? Even his career? The career you had no inkling of? It wasn’t like pulling teeth; getting him to chuckle seems easy enough, but his friendliness couldn’t be mistaken for jolliness in any sense of the word.

Either way, Din is smiling – albeit, faintly – as he appears next to you.

“Were you planning that?” he teases, spooning his sherbert.

You shrug, licking the sides of your waffle cone. “I was counting on it.”

The two of you smile at one another and continue your walk with pleasant conversation. You people-watch and he casually jokes around by creating exaggerated scenarios for each of them as they pass. (“That guy in the red swim trunks and sports shades definitely cheats on his girlfriend.”) You can’t help but wonder if you sound ridiculous by the way you snort with laughter each time he says something clever, but he grins pleasantly anyway. It’s difficult to not get a big head each time you manage to get him to do anything other than monitor his surroundings – you notice he has a habit of it, despite how hard he tries to pretend he doesn’t.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna try it?” you offer, ice cream cone melting a bit down the sides.

Din wrinkles his nose but sighs after a moment, maybe weakened by your puppy dog eyes. Wishful thinking. “Alright. Just for you.”

You smile widely with satisfaction, bringing the cone up to his lips. And just when he’s about to bend down to lick the sugary treat, you push the cone onto his face. Din blinks, expression blank, and you’re afraid you might’ve crossed a line. The colorful ice cream stains his chin, dripping down onto his neck, and then soils the collar of his t-shirt. You prepare for the blow, cringing a bit under his gaping. But just when you’re about to stutter an apology and run away, Din presses his lips in a thin line to stop himself from letting out a full-bodied laugh.

“Oh, you think that’s funny don’t you?” he raises his brows in jest.

You sigh out in relief. He’s clearly amused. “Yes actually,” you quip, donning a pair of innocent and fluttering eyes.

He nods a few times, lips pursed, and humming with consideration. “I see,” he muses, hands placing themselves on your hips and squeezing.

You shriek in a fit of giggles as he pushes you gently against the brick of a nearby building. It’s cold against your skin, but nowhere near as chilly as Din’s milky lips peppering chaste kisses against your cheeks. His lashes bat against you, tickling your cheeks, and you become sticky with fruity condensed milk as the gleeful bombardment continues. His name escapes your mouth between your humored twittering. He has you pinned between himself and a wall - you are quite literally trapped - and in front of the public no less.

He wasn’t ashamed of you.

It’s almost a reaction what happens next.

Your hands lock themselves around his neck, mouth pressing against his full lips for the very first time. The people surrounding you disappear, the noise of the busy street vanishing completely. You’d expected your first kiss with him to be serious, maybe even a little awkward with graceless fumbling. But the two of you are snickering against one another, the embrace as natural as breathing. He’s cupping your cheek with the caution he’d shown this morning; he must’ve been terrified you’d crumble beneath him.

You felt like you could.

He’s holding back, and you know this because his lips are soft and slow as a wounded butterfly with clipped wing. The hand that isn’t holding your cheek has pulled you in by the hips. It’s getting harder to breathe, even if it’s closed mouthed. He spoke and the world spun - but his lips make the world sing.

You’re the first to pull away, eyes fluttering open with an uncontrollable eagerness to perceive his countenance. What you expected, you can’t remember, because when you find his eyes still closed, relishing in the kiss with a full-bodied smile, you feel nauseous with excitement. It was almost too much.

Yet not enough at all.

The napkin around your ice cream cone is soaked, but you crumble it in a ball and bring it to Din’s face anyway. You pat against his cheek, wiping away as much of the ice cream as you could while he recovers. Some of it has collected on his dense mustache and you resist the urge to laugh at that.

He nods to himself like he’s trying to get a grasp on what just happened, eyes opening with caution to gaze into yours. He looks tired, but the kind that was delicious; the kind that you look forward to remedying. You must’ve taken an energy from him.

You hope you did.

Because he took it all from you.

He lets out a breathy laugh and you place a thumb against his jaw to wipe some stray remnants from him. “I think I like ice cream now,” he jokes.

•••

The two of you manage to escape.

This is after Rhea and Charlotte come bouncing out of the store, bags in hand, and giddy smiles upon their faces. You laugh with them as they show you their purchases while Din looks on from the sidelines, knee bouncing with alacrity.

You’re weak by the kiss, the blush from your cheeks still prominent. You were positive your sisters would notice, that tonight they’d drill you with questions they already knew the answer to. Women have a way of knowing when another woman has been kissed as zealously as you just had. It wasn’t just the pink in your face that would give you away; it was the dreamy glint in your eyes, the bit of Superman that you’d missed upon Din’s cheek, and the trembling of each item they forced in your hands.

You say your goodbyes to your sisters, promising you’d be home in time for movie night, and skip alongside Din while walking to Bessie. When he’s sure the two of you are in the clear, he takes your hand and massages the space between your thumb and forefinger. Tension subsides in your shoulders.

This was new to you. You’d kissed guys as a teenager; even had a few boyfriends here or there. But that’d been years ago and none of them alighted a fire in your belly like Din has. His company was ethereal - he was made of stardust; you were sure of it. And it seemed silly - even a little frightening - that your feelings have evolved so quickly. For hells sake, you’d just met him a few days ago. Could you really be just, well, stupid? And maybe he was feeding off that stupidity for his own personal gain?

This thought alone makes you feel guilty. You try to ignore the anxiety and focus on the feel of his hand, tanned and masculine, and breathe. The smell of fried dough wafts from down the boardwalk, the tune of an old carnival song muffled in the distance by the chaos of summer. The sun was still high in the sky; it was only five in the afternoon but your body felt as though it’d been up for an entire day, weak with the intensity from such a rush of adrenaline.

Upon arriving to the car, Din opens the door for you and a bit of paint from devoted Bessie showers upon the pavement. You can’t help but wonder if he knew you’d leave early with him and the idea of bringing two separate vehicles was clouded with hidden agenda. This, of course, starts up the cycle of mental dramatization again.

Gods, why can’t you just leave it alone? Why can’t you feel something for once in your life? You’ve spent so many years hiding in the corner in fear of getting hurt – of opening yourself to be exposed to new and terminal wounds even if the process was liberating. And Din was liberating in more ways than one; in ways that have surprised you, despite how little you’ve known him.

As soon as he climbs in, you scooch as close as possible to his side. Your bravery surprises yourself, but you wouldn’t overthink it, especially when he smiles cheekily your way. You’ve leaned your head against his shoulder just before reaching for his free hand again and placing it in your lap with a tight grip.

You may get hurt later. But for now, that pain was worth experiencing. Din Djarin already seems to be worthy of experiencing.

Bessie rumbles to life but he starts for the crown of your head first, lips brushing against you, and light as a feather.

•••

If Din hadn’t been such an experienced driver, he was sure he would’ve crashed by now.

No. He was positive he would’ve crashed. It was nearly impossible to concentrate on the plainness of the road when a goddess was sitting in the seat beside him, holding his hand, and gazing out into the fields you rush past. You exuberantly point out each time there was a farm where cattle and horses grazed, their tails flicking to shoo away flies. He realizes that you love cows (“especially the brown ones,” you had smiled) and makes a mental note of it.

The house is in view now, the strawberries blooming the land with color beneath their plants’ emerald leaves. Your sisters hadn’t beat you there and your father’s truck wasn’t parked in front like it normally was. Not that it would’ve mattered that his friend was home, but Din preferred your father find out…later; when Din felt confident in your feelings for him and you felt confident in his. You were too important to risk losing so soon or even at all.

And that terrifies him.

And just when Din’s about to turn onto the road that leads directly to the house, you gasp beside him.

It frightens him. He isn’t well acquainted with your exclamations yet, so it was hard to distinguish whether your outburst is harmless or exclaimed in the face of danger. He pauses, foot stepping on the brake pedal, and lunges Bessie forward with too much exertion. Upon instinct, he reaches out an arm to prevent you from slamming yourself against the dashboard by the sudden halt.

He immediately looks to you, brows furrowed in concern, and chest heaving with epinephrine. “What is it?!” he jolts out.

You’re staring into the nearby woods with narrowed eyes, silent as a bug. The thicket and vines wrap themselves around one another, graceful in their disorganized summer. Din couldn’t find any movement interrupting the overgrowth, but he had a suspicion you’ve seen an animal of some kind. What else could have caused you to gasp so randomly?

Something pretty incredible, apparently. Because just as Din’s about to repeat himself, far more concerned with your silence than anything, you swing open the rusted door and sprint into the woods.

{ Tag List: @steeevienicks, @hallway5, @t3a-bag, @dodgerandevans, @lumimon47, @dancingwiththeplanets }

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

But? Damian Wayne • Tim Drake

Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Plus Size Reader, Tim Drake x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: you go through a lot because of Tim and Damian but in different ways.

Request: do you listen to asmr boyfriend roleplay (on yt)? Some of them would be great as fics.

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, sexual innuendos, language, fluff, a very light mention of violence, light mentions of insecurity, is rain a warning?

A/N: the fact that every fic I’ve written for these characters has the same concept is very funny but I definitely see the appeal and the potential.

Based off these YouTube videos: one two three

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Replaying it didn’t make it easier to digest. After months of plans to move in together and talks about adopting a dog, Tim had broken up with you. He fell for someone else, a person he spoke about often.

She was a coworker of his, a gorgeous woman if anyone asked you. You could never blame him for falling for someone like her, she looked like a model and was a badass agent — it just hurt.

Now you were packing the belongings he kept at your place to send them to him with Alfred. It seemed like he couldn’t only break your heart and walk away, Tim also had to humiliate you. Out of respect, Alfred didn’t ask anything at all, he merely reminded you he was always available for you and wished you a good night.

The TV show playing in front of you wasn’t being processed by your brain. Curled up on the bed, covered with the duvet and a fuzzy blanket, you were desperately trying to conceive some sleep, for your brain to at least calm down so your head would stop throbbing and your eyes twitching.

Startled by tapping on the window, you were forced to swallow the mucus clogging your nose. Coughing, you rolled on the bed to asses who had disturbed you. Upon realizing it was just Robin, you begrudgingly left the bed to open the window.

He entered the room without saying anything, waiting for you to lock the window and close the curtains to take his domino mask off. He always did that, no matter how many times you told him no one would see him.

Damian stared down at the dozens of used Kleenex in the trashcan you kept near the bed. “Why are you upset?”

“I thought you knew...” your voice was strained, throat too tired due to the sobbing.

“I clearly don’t.”

“Tim dumped me for someone else.” Saying it in front of his brother was even worse than you had imagined. “Why are you here if it isn’t because I forgot to pack his brown jacket?”

Damian plopped down on your desk chair, staring directly at you, “patrol was boring and father is with Kyle again.”

Nodding, you went back to your spot on the bed, making yourself comfortable with a pillow on your lap.

“Are you tired?”

You were, but you didn’t want to be alone. “Not at all,” you lied so he wouldn’t dare leave. “Do you want to watch that movie you recommended to me last month?”

“Sure.”

Browsing through different streaming services until you found the film, you saw Damian take parts of his suit off in order to be more comfortable. Surprising you, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, once you had found the title.

You had to admit that paying attention was easier with him around, probably because you didn’t want to annoy him. The film did its job, you finally got distracted — you also fell asleep.

It became a routine, every night he would tap on your window and make you company. Some nights you would stay up until sunrise when you had to go to work, others he would be so tired he’d crash out on your couch, and a few nights you fully rested because his presence made you feel calmer.

Damian and you had never been too close, he and Tim had a complicated relationship and you didn’t want to have problems with your now ex-boyfriend. Now you hoped you had, he wasn’t what you had thought — Damian was nicer than every member of the family made him out to be, funnier, smarter, kinder. You genuinely enjoyed being around him.

He was extremely patient with you. He’d recommend you things to entertain yourself, let you vent when you needed, and without having to do it, would often make sure you had been eating properly because he had observed that between how much you had cried the days after the breakup, your job, and your lack of sleep you were low on energy. Damian had even spent an entire week helping you redecorate the apartment to cheer your spirit.

Being close to Damian meant spending time at the park with Titus, a shit ton of it, and trying new food every weekend, and visiting art galleries which had never been your thing. Being close to Damian also meant worrying because with all of his skills and abilities he was the most stubborn man you had ever met who often fought blindly just to end up in the Batcave's medical wing with a worried Alfred calling you to let you know your friend was hurt but alive.

Most importantly, being close to him meant feeling free to be yourself. You were sure no one would believe you, but it had never been truer.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Elevators had you tired, ironically. The only reason you hadn’t taken the stairs was that you were carrying a portfolio full of documents, a book bag, your purse, and a coat — everything was wet, just like you. Taking an umbrella would’ve saved you many nuisances, or not walking home from work, but you were too distracted in the morning to remember and now you were paying for it thanks to the rain that came with the nearing seasonal change.

You liked the rain, its sound was soothing, the smell made you aware of your own existence as it awakened your senses, you felt cleansed by it. A lovely thing to experience overall, just not after a long day of work.

Stepping out the second the elevator doors slid open, you took the keys out of your coat with your right hand. You let the straps of your purse slide down to your forearm as you flexed your arm while introducing the key in the lock, when it turned, you sighed out of relief and pushed the door open to finally get inside.

The lights were already on, sizzling echoed around the small apartment and a familiar smell of stir-fried vegetables hit your nose. You hung your coat, letting it drip as much water it naturally could before even daring to put it into the dryer.

Walking further into the apartment, you found Damian in the kitchen. He was wearing the comfiest clothes you had seen him on, sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt with only a pair of white socks.

“What are you doing in here with this weather?” you asked, taking a look at what he was cooking.

“I was bored.”

He always said the same, you always told him you didn’t believe him but he ignored it every single time. Patting his back, you announced you would get changed.

“Don’t take too long, dinner will get cold!”

As much as you were fine with Damian being there( and his cuisine,) you had to wonder why couldn’t he tell you his reasonings for his presence at your place. One thing was him visiting when you were there and another him practically breaking into your apartment — you were open to give him a copy of the keys, to be honest, but you would really appreciate it if he asked.

Dinner was delicious, shared over talk about your day. Damian was avoiding speaking about his day, about his entire week actually — in the past month and a half he hadn’t done anything close to that.

Sat on the couch in order to continue bingeing the show the two of you had started last week, you considered asking him what was going on with him. It partially scared you, the last time a member of that family had acted like that toward you they broke your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you threw your head backward to rest it against the edge of the sofa. Damian watched you, frowning. “Are you okay?”

You answered in a hum. “You?”

“Peachy.”

You moved around the couch, opening your eyes to stare at him. He stared back, the frown slowly disappearing from his face as seconds passed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you inquired in a timid voice.

“Father is planning on retiring.”

“Oh... are you taking over?”

“Yes.”

You couldn’t picture anyone but him doing it. Dick had been miserable as Batman, Jason wasn’t interested in being like Bruce after everything that had happened, and Cass was finally finding a balance in her life.

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I am.”

“But?”

He shook his head, “but nothing. It was a long day.”

For your mental wellbeing, you didn’t press on it. He was clearly hiding something from you but he had the right to do so. It made you feel bad but whatever.

The lights flickered, prompting you to groan. The storm was getting worse, the sky was rumbling with thunder and the lighting striking the city and flashing into the living room through the thin white drapes was as mesmerizing as terrifying.

You mumbled, “can you stay?”

“Yes.”

Damian walked behind you, holding the flashlight from his cellphone to light the path toward your bedroom. You undid the bed quickly so he wouldn’t have to hold the device up for so long, you were sure it wasn’t an inconvenience to him but you still didn’t want to bother him.

He sat down on the bed, just next to you, “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can sleep next to me if you want.” You felt your face burn up the second the words left your mouth yet you meant them. Oh, you did.

You heard shuffling. Assuming he was taking his sweatshirt off to get into bed, you moved away from the middle of the mattress toward the farthest side from him.

Getting under the duvet, Damian laid on his back. His cologne mixed with his usual smell of vanilla and almonds filled your nostrils as he dropped his head onto the pillow with his arms crossed against his front.

“Dami?” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment. “Can you get closer? I’m cold.”

With no hesitation, he turned over in order to lay on his side. Throwing his arm around you from behind, “Is that better?”

You relaxed with your back against his chest, letting a content sigh out. Damian inhaled deeply, taking a whiff off you. He did it again then, finding the smell of your lotion soothing. As he relaxed too, his arm curled around you more comfortably with his hand laying on your plump belly. You placed your hand on top of his, a little nervous yet excited. Being held was a nice feeling, one you had forgotten.

He lifted his fingers, brushing yours. You intertwined your fingers between his, playing with them. He huffed a light breath, caressing the sides of your fingers as you played with his.

Turning around, you got lost into the ethereal way the light from the lamppost entering through the window illuminated Damian’s side profile. He opened his mouth to probably say something but you abruptly shut him up. You did know what overcame you, it was something that had been simmering in you for the past month — the need of being near him, the butterflies that swarmed inside you when he laughed, the peace he brought you. He surprised you by kissing back.

“Shit,” you exclaimed, realizing you had actually done it. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupted to assure you. He placed his hand on your lower back, leaning in again. “Can we do it again?”

You kissed him again, feeling him tighten his arm around you in order to pull you closer. He deepened the kiss too, prying your mouth open as you held his face in order to ground yourself mentally. Damian laid you on your back, pushing you into the mattress as he straddled you — his lips didn’t leave yours, not even as both of you whimpered while his hands trailed up and down your thighs and yours mapped his back. Full-on making out with your best friend wasn’t how you pictured your shitty day ending, but you weren’t about to complain.

Damian couldn’t keep his lips off your face, enjoying the softness of your cheeks under his mouth and seeing the natural twitches of your nose which made him realize you were actually awake. He hoped he hadn’t awakened you up.

“I thought you were asleep.” The depth of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Were you pretending?”

You hummed, “it was hard with all those kisses.”

“I wasn’t kissing you,” he said teasingly, using his index and middle fingers to lift your head in order to continue kissing your face. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. You?”

He answered, “yes. The best in months.” It felt good knowing you weren’t the only one.

Damian hugged you close with both arms, exhaling happily, “you’re very warm.”

Hiding your face in his chest, you hugged back. You didn’t know what it meant, or the meaning behind the gesture of still cuddling in bed with the guy you had started developing feelings for mere weeks after breaking up with his brother. But it didn’t matter, you were comfortable in his arms and happy with seemingly having cracked his shell.

You had to ask, however. “Did I overstep last night?”

“No, I told you it was okay.”

“Oh, yeah.”

He pulled away enough to fully face you. You attempted to ignore him, shifting under his gaze. Damian licked his lips, “did I make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head, the sound the friction of the side of your face made against the pillow too loud for your liking. “I just... I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Is this ruining our friendship?”

You stuttered, “I— I think so?” You weren’t sure.

“I want to ruin it,” he stated, eyes fixed on yours, “more than anything.”

Your eyes dropped to his mouth as he said it, his full lips tempting you again. You were scared of the lack of guilt you were feeling, but you happily gave in. “Let’s ruin it, then.”

Smiling brightly, he dipped his face in order to kiss you. You were certain you would never get over his soft lips, the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his touch, his intoxicating scent, his silky voice... God, he truly had you smitten.

Nuzzling against your shoulder, he intertwined his legs with yours. “I don’t want to get out of bed yet.”

You giggled. “Then don’t.”

Damian decided he could do that, just cuddle his favorite person in the world until something came up, maybe.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You had been typing on your computer, as music harmonized your den-office when the doorbell rang. Looking at the time to try and guess who could be visiting you on a Tuesday noon, you pushed yourself back, away from the desk, in order to stand up.

Dot, the Labrador you had adopted no long ago wiggled her tail from her spot near the couch as you crossed the living room. She loved laying there, she had a good view of the door and could jump on you the second you got home.

You regretted opening the door the second you faced your visitor. Tim Drake smiled timidly at you, “hi, (Y/N).”

“I— uh, hello?” You tilted your head, confused as to what he was doing there, who had given him the address and why had he thought he would be welcome.

“Can I come in?”

You lifted your index finger. “Just a second.”

Opening the guest-closet, you took a pair of slippers out and padded back toward the door. Tim looked down at the slippers you were offering to him, then at his shoes — as he did, he realized you weren’t wearing any footwear.

He complied, taking his shoes off and sliding his feet into the slippers. When he asked where to put the pair of footwear he had just taken off, you pointed to a mat next to the door, just under the key holders. You closed the front door as he dropped his shoes.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, eyes taking in as much of the space around him as possible, “your taste has changed! How long has it been?”

“A little over a year and a half.”

“We really need to catch up!”

You motioned for him to sit down on the couch. Dot curiously stared at him when he did so while you asked, “do you want anything to drink?”

“Coffee would be fine,” he answered just to have more time to examine the living room. It was extremely luxurious, with a vaulted ceiling and oversized windows.

Curious about the overall design of the penthouse, and how good your job had to be for you to be able to pay for such living arrangements, he followed you toward the kitchen where you were preparing his coffee. It was as full of luxury as the living room, with stainless steel appliances, granite counter-tops and a breakfast bar the size of your previous apartment’s entire kitchen.

“How have you been?” He asked, sliding his palm against the marbled breakfast bar.

“I’ve been great.” You gave him a tight smile, placing the sugar bowl onto the bar.

“I’m glad. How’s your family?”

“They’re great, thank you.” Out of courtesy, you asked, “how have you been?”

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “well, after I abruptly broke up with you, from which I’m very sorry because I was a dick, my girlfriend broke up with me too...”

“I’m sorry.” You genuinely felt for him, being dumped out of the blue wasn’t something you wished upon anyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, you handed it to him.

“It’s okay,” he smiled openly, nodding as a thank you for the coffee and dropping a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the beverage, “I’m over it. I moved to Europe when Bruce said he needed someone to supervise the branch of the company there, the drama wasn’t good for my spirit.”

“Why are you back? It’s not like Gotham has changed.”

“My best friend is getting married.”

You hummed, finding estrange that you hadn’t been invited to the wedding.

“You have a new boy or anything?”

You stuttered, dropping a teabag into a cup, “perhaps.”

“Come on, (N/N), tell me! I won’t get mad.” He deviated his gaze. “I’m over you and everything.”

You confessed then, pouring hot water on top of the herbs, “I am dating Damian.”

“Which Damian?”

You waited for your ex-boyfriend to swallow the sip of coffee he had just taken and took the opportunity to have a sip of tea to calm your nerves. “Wayne,” you explained.

“You’re dating my little brother?!” He whisper-shouted. You simply nodded. “For how long?”

“Eleven months.”

“So what? You ran into his arms as soon as I broke up with you?!”

You didn’t appreciate the tone he was using or what he was insinuating. Definitely not when he had cheated on you without for once thinking of sparing your feelings.

“Damian was there for me when no one else had the time, it just happened.”

“I thought you were going to stay away from my family,” he reproached you.

In all honesty, you had thought the same thing. As much as Alfred had told you to call him if you needed anything when he went to pick up the belongings Tim kept at your place, you hadn’t planned on doing it — but that same night, when Damian arrived, tired after a long patrol, and playing dumb by saying he had just dropped by because he was bored you decided you didn’t have to, you didn’t want to. Eventually, you evolved, as many things had after that night, not for Damian nor because of him but next to him, with his patience and support.

“I can’t believe you,” he shook his head.

“I thought you were over me.”

“I’m not jealous! But you deserve better than him — you’re so pretty and nice and he’s selfish and mean and depends on Bruce for everything.”

That didn’t sound like Damian at all. “Maybe you don’t know your brother.”

“You’re telling me he’s changed? Because I don’t believe it.”

You couldn’t be a testimony of Damian’s change when you had never seen the version Tim described, but you could definitely say Damian was everything you had always wanted in a partner and more — he was what you needed, what you loved.

“You still can do way, waaaaaay better than him,” Tim interpreted your silence as a confirmation of Damian’s change.

“Like who, Timothy?”

“Like me!” he exploded, clenching his eyes shut for a couple seconds to control his breathing. “I’ll go straight to the point: I miss you. I came back to get you back, there’s no wedding. I was too stupid to see what I had when I had it, I know, but I’ve changed,” he assured, “I have a new philosophy, I’m surrounded by better people. I’m not blind anymore.”

“Neither I am.”

He ignored your comment and went on, “let’s just start again. In another country, a new house. We’ll adopt as many puppies as you want!” Tim took an envelope out, “I have two plane tickets here for tomorrow. One is yours.”

The front door unlocked loudly, prompting both you and Dot to crane your necks in order to stare at it. Damian pushed it open, shoes in hand and blazer draping over his forearm.

You saw him focus on the pair of shoes on the mat for mere seconds before Dot happily wiggled her tail at him as she approached him. Damian threw his blazer to the nearest couch, quickly undoing his tie which followed suit, before hunching down to pet the little dog.

Out of habit, you left the kitchen to walk toward him and greet him. He stood back up, naturally towering over you and kissing you softly, “hello, beloved.”

You giddily smiled, forgetting you weren’t alone, “hi, handsome. I missed you.” Wrapping your arms around his waist, you inhaled his scent. God, you had truly missed him. Sleeping without him wasn’t the same, nor having to rely on music or the tv for the place to not feel alone. Two days of not hearing his voice not waking up tangled up with him were too much sometimes.

Damian put his hands on your waist, sighing at finally being able to touch your soft body again. “I missed you more.” He leaned downward, placing his lips on yours again.

“(Y/N),” Tim pleaded from behind you, making you jump.

Damian parted from you, looking past your shoulder and directly at his brother. “Drake. What are you doing in here?”

You stepped to the side, opting for opening the terrace’s door so Dot could have some fun outside. In the background, as you leant against the doorway and watched the little dog sniff the terrace, you heard Tim say Alfred had given him the address. Oh, sweet Alfred, always trying to keep the family together.

Turning around, you saw them both sit down in front of each other in the living room. Trying to keep them from fighting, you walked back into the room and sat down next to your boyfriend.

Tim immediately told you, “please don’t throw it all to waste for him.”

Both Damian and you frowned. He put his hand on your thigh, like he had done the first time he had taken you to a business dinner as his date, like he had grown used to do under any table. It was your favorite gesture, he wasn’t a big fan of PDA but he still made sure to always be touching you — the fact that he loved your thighs when you had always been insecure due to their size was a nice addition.

“I’m over you, Tim. Damian is my boyfriend, and with who I want to be.”

“He’ll never love you like I do, he can’t.” Tim’s tone was the harshest you had heard from him.

He was right, though. Damian would never love you like Tim did, that was the whole point. You didn’t want what Tim had to offer, the kind of love he could give — you were past that, you had been for a long time now and it felt amazing.

Tired and spent, Damian hugged you extremely tightly while cuddling that night, almost to the point where you struggled to breathe. Wiggling in his arms in order to turn around and face him, you wrapped your arms around him as best as you could.

“What’s wrong, Dami?”

“Nothing.”

You dropped yourself onto your back, struggling to bring him in but ultimately succeeding. Damian sighed, shifting to be more comfortable as he laid his head on your bare chest.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. Damian inhaled your scent, sighing in content — he was in his safe place. “I sometimes forget not everyone sees me the way you do.”

You supposed he was referring to Tim’s assumptions about him. “Does it bother you?”

“Only when they use it to try putting you against me.”

“You know they would never succeed, right?” You needed him to be aware of that.

“I do.”

“But?”

He moved to hover over you, fitting his legs between yours as he propped himself up with his elbows. “But it’s different when your ex does it. And no, I’m not jealous, I do trust you.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. You understood what he meant, perfectly so. Damian had been there to pick up the pieces, he had helped you glue them together and even taught you to tweak them so the final piece would look better — with that, beautiful things had bloomed, but in between many tears had been shed on your behalf and many confessions had been made regarding your feelings in general; sprinkle in how hard it had been to process the fact that you had fallen for each other and you could understand where he was coming from. There was a piece of Damian in you, and there was a piece of you in him; at every level.

“It’s not relevant anymore, love,” you reminded him.

Damian caught your lips in a tender kiss, humming. “I just wish he wasn’t back.”

“He’ll be gone by tomorrow. And if he isn’t, I don’t care.” You started playing with his hair, unconsciously running your fingers up and down through his locks. “But I don’t want you to have a bad relationship with your brother because of me.”

“We’ve spoken about that.”

Damian had never been able to get along with Tim, his relationship with Dick was great and he had even built one with Jason, Cass was his favorite, and he had gotten to meet with Helena a few times. However, his resentment toward Tim heightened when you two started frequenting each other — he seemed to now despise him.

You tilted your head to pepper kisses over his jaw. “You’ll manage, Damian. You ignored him for years.”

Your boyfriend sighed dramatically, letting his weight gradually fall on top of you. Placing his hand on your cheek, he smirked before burying his face in your neck. “Besides,” Damian mumbled, “he’s not the one keeping you up tonight.”

[reynesofcastamere]

Surface Breach(1/3)[β]

(A/N: Apologies for the longer-than-usual wait on this one. I went back and forth a LOT on which direction I wanted to take this in. and both the weather and irl things have not been cooperating with my muse. X_X. Anyway, the prompt for this was  ‘Ahsoka completely breaking down and Maul comforting her’. Sequel to ‘Pressure Points’, so set about 2-3 years after ROTS with circumstances being closer to canon. Warnings for: Non-consensual abduction, emotional manipulation, possessive behaviour, intrusive thoughts, violent outbursts, violation of physical autonomy/boundaries, mentions of possible body modification/invasion of privacy, major character death and some internalized shame regarding sex and sexual practices. Once again, potentially triggering sections have been marked off with ‘****’. Unbeta’d.)

Ahsoka...drifts for an uncertain amount of time. She gets vague impressions of eating and performing other necessities as if through a thick haze. There’s a...person who helps her with these things. Someone with warm hands(which are very appreciated, wherever she is, it’s cold) and a low, pleasant voice that she could curl up and listen to for hours. Mostly she sleeps, deep and untroubled by nightmares or immediate concerns. When she comes to, there’s an overwhelming grogginess and a slight chemical tang on her tongue that she only gets from prolonged bacta treatment. Not full tank immersion, but there are a fair amount of patches stuck to her skin under the loose robe she’s currently wearing. Peeling them off carefully, she finds that most of the bruising and other marks that covered her body-like a tribute to poor decisions- are either gone or greatly reduced. And she doesn’t feel...sore in any tender places. Kind of a welcome change. Which now brings up the question of Where the kriff am I and how long have I been here?

Ahsoka catalogues her surroundings: Simple bed, storage unit, two doors presumably leading to a refresher and an outside corridor. It’s very...bare. Easily left behind or packed up. Whoever is staying here doesn’t plan to do so for long. She finds her lightsabres, clothes, and armour in the top drawer, and her boots placed neatly at the foot of the bed. Only when she is nearly finished getting dressed does she take out a long, even strip of black fabric. For a moment, she thinks that there must have been an error of some kind, until the memories of her most recent slip-up rush in like floodwater through a broken dam. There’s a hot, tight feeling in her gut that balances precariously between desire and shame. Maul has an obsessive personality. She knows this. So why am I encouraging this disaster by-Ahsoka can’t even finish the thought. It makes her sick. And so very angry. She’d made the mistake of seeking him out for something other than business, and he had flat-out abducted her. Any number of people or her objectives could be in danger right now. Her fingers fumble slightly on her wrist-comm as she checks it for tampering. Still functional. She’ll have to disassemble her equipment later, to ensure there aren’t any tracking chips or other unwelcome additions. 

He might have embedded something in me while I was under. It rattles her, not remembering, not knowing what Maul could have done, given the opportunity. And he’s close. Even with apprehension curdling in her veins, she can tell that much. Slipping the blindfold into a pocket, she pulls her boots on and pauses for a moment in front of the door. So. Time to find out whether she’s a prisoner or a...’guest’. It opens seamlessly, and she almost gives a sigh of relief. Until she realizes that it leads directly into his office. Ahsoka steps through into a moderate, dimly-lit space. The glow from the screen of the datapad he’s perusing throws Maul’s left side into sharp relief. “Sit.” No need to guess whom he’s addressing, or that he expects to be obeyed. And as there are no other chairs in the room -besides the one he’s currently occupying-, her options are limited. She folds her arms and prepares to stand her ground, only to find herself pulled forward. There is a struggle, though the distance is so short that by the time she breaks out of his Force grip, she’s already right in front of him. Ever the image of arrogance, he sets the ‘pad down, only now raking his gaze over her body. If it’s just to assess the state of her injuries, she might not mind. As much. Except this is Maul, so his motives are guaranteed to be awful at best and downright terrifying at worst. She takes the opportunity to loom over him, gripping the back of his chair with one hand. “You have one chance. Tell me why in the name of a Hutt’s karking diseased brood pouch you thought any of this was a good idea.” The odds are heavily in favour of him lying, or any facts being filtered through his...particular mindset. There is still a possibility that she can glean some scraps of truth from whatever pile of waste product he presents her with, though.

“You were incapacitated, and your stability is, shall we say...currently less than sound.” He answers, lazily resting the curve of his jaw against one set of knuckles as he sprawls. “I acted as I saw fit.” Even when appearing relaxed, Maul is still a coiled serpent. She can never forget that. “Although I am curious...What you might have done had you woken up alone.” “Gone back to work with a few new bruises.” Ahsoka retorts flatly. Which is true, minus some details. It might have at least given her more motivation to stay away from him; knowing with certainty that she is viewed as a plaything for him to use roughly and toss aside on a whim. If only.

“A poor deflection. Nevertheless...” Maul hooks two fingertips under her chin, pulling her oh-so-gradually towards him as he leans in close. The resulting kiss is unexpectedly gentle. She didn’t think he wanted... But he’s-this is-good. Not hurried or violent. She finds herself angling her head to get a bit more contact, tongue peeking out to tentatively flick at his lower lip. He purrs, and she feels...oddly pleased as the physical connection deepens. Their tongues entwine and slide in a tantalizing dance to the point where she hums. Ahsoka is dizzy from either a lack of oxygen or budding arousal when they pull apart, chest heaving slightly as she takes in some much-needed gulps of air.  Still, there has to be a catch.

“Explain why I should allow you to leave, Ahsoka Tano.” Sometimes, she really dislikes being right.

“That’s not something you get to decide.” Ahsoka practically spits in retaliation.

“You ran.” Maul hisses. Like she’d had any other choice. It doesn’t matter if he’s gentle, fucking is just one more way for them to hurt one another. “And avoided direct contact for months only to slink back beaten and exhausted to the point of collapse. I have spent the last four days looking after a husk.” Ahsoka nearly hates the look in his eyes right now. Because he is so very good at pretending to truly care that she almost believes it.“Is martyrdom so much more appealing?” The Dark Side seems to slither over her as he purrs, deceptively pleasant even while it attempts to invade.

**** She sinks into his lap as he tugs her down, thighs parting instinctively under his touch. He fills the space between them with far too much ease.  She refuses to urge him to get this over with, already. Bad enough that she wants anything from him in the first place, that trading pain, degradation and cruelty with a monster gets her off at all. Except that it does. Ahsoka had hoped at first that it was just the physical aspect; That finding someone who could bite and claw at her in the right way would satisfy this...twisted craving in her off-time. There had been satisfaction, and a few personal revelations, yet it wasn’t enough.  “Rex and I buried the men you killed. So many more innocents are dead, dying or suffering under the syndicate.” Any mention of Satine Kryze or Adi Gallia sticks in her throat. She cannot bear to see his pride over those victims while he’s touching her. “You’ll betray everyone and everything for power or revenge.” What good has it done, pushing herself to the absolute brink to fulfill her duties, all but throwing herself into the arms of strangers? She’s still here, on the receiving end of that searing and inescapable gaze. “And you still don’t get why I can’t stand to look at you when you’re-” Finishing the sentence is impossible, both because she cannot bring herself to say the words and suddenly she cannot stand him, his presence, his touch, any of it. 

“I should have just killed you then.” Her shoto is ignited and at his throat in the span of a heartbeat. Maul doesn’t retreat or let go, fingertips pressing bruises into her hips even as he half-bares his teeth in a silent snarl. Taking his head off would be right. The Rebellion needs his resources, not him. Criminals are easily manipulated, and Ahsoka will be free of these urges-The lightsabre is actually burning his skin now. He’s pressing into it, practically inviting-His eyes are-Her mouth is dry. Maul has always been a reminder of who she might have been, and what she might become if she ever loses herself. Everything comes crashing down on her at once, and the next thing she is truly aware of is that her weapon is deactivated and re-holstered, eyes leaking copious amounts of tears. **** He guides her hands to his chest, fingers automatically digging into the material of his vest once he lets go. Her face lowers to rest in the crook between neck and shoulder, breathing stuttered and wracked with quiet sobs while she trembles. Maul doesn’t embrace her. Merely...accommodates her current state of being. The pulse against her lips drops from frantic beats to a measured, steady rhythm. Ahsoka doesn’t want to be like him. Doesn’t want to go further down the path to becoming a desperate, selfish, manic person that would sit back and watch everything burn to ashes. 

Her chest is full of broken transparisteel and every breath hurts. The tears are a deluge that take far too long to dry out, and when they do she wants nothing so much as to sleep again; curled around a warm body for comfort and safety. Obviously she can’t do that for a number of reasons, but it would still be nice to have the option. “Does this-” A light brush along her flank. “-mean I am forgiven?”

“No.”

“Good. What I am, my actions...They do not affect who you are, Ahsoka Tano.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Is it not? When the Empire falls, you still intend to bring me to whatever ‘justice’-” Maul scoffs. “-Your reborn Republic sees fit to mete out. Our alliance has always been one of convenience. Physical intimacy does not change that.” “What the Republic will do to you is the least of what you deserve.” Ahsoka states with firm conviction, raising her head to make eye contact once more. “And am I really supposed to believe you’re not going to try and twist this to your own benefit?” “No.” He replies simply, though she can see that eerie, devouring light in his eyes beginning to emerge. “You already know what it is I want from you. And it means nothing if you come to me unwilling and utterly broken.”  “Hm. We’ll see how long that stance lasts.” Her response is justifiably skeptical. “I have work to do, so if you could point me in the direction of your hangar...”

“Of course.” Maul lists off directions as well as the model of ship she’ll be ‘borrowing’, her own presumably still hidden where she’d left it. “Close your eyes.” “What are you doing?” “Providing incentive. Return to my side when you are ready.” The pad of his thumb traces her lower lip sensually before he tries to close the remaining distance between their lips, only to have her lean away.

“If you want it that badly, you’ll have to catch me, next time.” She can practically feel the air crackle once the hushed provocation leaves her mouth. If she is to keep succumbing to these desires, it will be on her terms.

“It is not wise to tempt me when you are so close to freedom.” The rasp in his voice and the dilation of his pupils indicate that he is seconds away from pushing her down onto the desk and ravishing her senseless. The thrill of it is enough to make her grind down against him, once.

“Try it. We need to have a talk about boundaries anyway.” Ahsoka smiles, a challenge in her eyes as she loops and ties the blindfold around his left wrist before getting to her feet. “I’ll be in contact.” Maul actually lets her go when she walks away, this time. She feels...better. Not healed or whole, but better than she was. In any case, the work of toppling a tyrannical Empire waits for no one, and she has a lot to catch up on.  (A/N: Ahsoka’s still planning to see a med-droid ASAP, since they haven’t had that discussion yet and it’s been thoroughly established that Maul is Bad With Boundaries. I’m sure that most of you can guess what the second part will involve. [I’m predictable that way, lol.] In any case, I will be trying to get my WIPs out sooner and my inbox is still open to all interested parties. Cheers, everyone!)

[hasereshdoneanythingwrong]

Hoo boy

Time to get myself cancelled in the F/GO community.   Hot take: I didn’t hate Agartha, in fact I liked quite a bit of it. 

Warning; long post ahead, read at your own peril.

Sure the villain was kinda obvious from the start, especially given how it was preceded by Shinjuku, and sure it had some moments that were less than stellar and people write it off without hesitation.

But I think a bit differently. i think that Agartha, while not the best of the Psuedos, was still good in its own right. It had a story to tell of a land underground that would be an explorer’s paradise. A world full of women, adventure, and thrills. Your character being dropped into this world without any sort of understanding or background leads to an admittedly slow progression of the story itself, but you’re not alone, and that’s the important thing.

When you arrive, Astolfo and D’Eon by your side, you have essentially what amounts to be an interesting party ahead. Astolfo being who they are is on full display, the lack of reasoning and common sense clearly shown while deliberately shown to be what people often perceive them as. An idiot. Astolfo has a strong moral compass and even remarks themselves that living without common sense and reasoning isn’t bad, they just go with what they feel is right. And I love that.

On the other hand, there’s D’Eon. D’Eon is not like Astolfo, they have their reasoning intact and hold themselves to a high standard as a knight. Their thoughts and actions reflect in a polar opposite manner to their comrade. Where Astolfo works off their essentially gut feeling, D’Eon works off of logic and honor. D’Eon in Agartha works as a perfect foil to Astolfo, and it’s played very well.

The two of them, in my mind, redeem the entire story of Agartha and its downfall. Their character development and interactions together are so well written. I admit, there are some lines that are played for jokes that clearly don’t land (Mash tries to have you identify D’Eon’s gender being one such instance). 

I don’t excuse these lines being poorly written. Some things just don’t work well and are poorly received, I understand the concerns on that front. But solely judging Agartha on that feels like it’s a little too harsh.

It wouldn’t be fair to not mention mini Fergus. Fergus MacRoich, an Ulster King known for bedding beautiful women and wanting to indulge himself, appears as he was when he was younger. A dutiful king-in-training learning what it is that makes a king. His introspection on the events unfolding throughout the singularity show a perspective we’re not used to seeing. A look from outside Guda’s own viewpoint. It’s rare for us to get a deeper introspection from someone other than ourselves on the situations before us and I think that’s very refreshing.

I’m going to skip ahead some or else it’s going to sound like I want to psychoanalyze every servant, which i don’t. Not now, at least, so let’s skip forward to the pirate city on the water, Y’s. A land without consequences and in which the residents are told to never care about anything. Want everything, keep nothing. What an odd viewpoint for someone that looks like Drake. Imagine a pirate who does nothing but take. They don’t even keep what they take, and just taking and taking without ever reflecting on their hoard. It’s a gluttonous cycle to hoard as the pirates of Y’s do. Their society being focused on such principles brings a strange light to the world you’re in. Your base in this Singularity wants for nothing and is content with what they have in terms of supplies, so to go from that to wanton greed is a bit shocking.

Next we talk about the Nightless City, a place brilliantly lit up in a dark region, its lights covering it’s terrifying truth. The men here are beaten and publicly executed for not being subservient. One man rats out another for his own safety from these punishments. This mentality of self preservation is an unnerving one. Someone being outed by their fellow man, no pun intended, solely because it will keep themselves alive. It’s what I would describe in some senses as grotesque. 

Now we’ll stay in the Nightless City for a minute to talk about another point of contempt; the costumes for D’Eon and Astolfo. Yes it’s cringey that a sailor outfit and maid outfit are used for two androgynous characters in order to make certain kinds of people more appealed to them. Did their behavior during this time not entirely match their established character? Yes. I don’t defend this specific portion, but I find the Nightless City is what most regard as the downfall of Agartha. Not only for these previous reasons, but also for the design and handling of Wu Zeitan. I don’t defend this either, I don’t defend the overt sexualization of characters that appear to be children in any manner. That’s wrong and should be treated as such. 

Now for the Amazons. I liked this finale, if you could call it that. Ending the main adventure by facing off against the strongest group in a military sense, with Penthesilea being your boss fight this time. Using Megalos Herc was an odd choice in writing, using a natural disaster essentially to fight the Queen of the Amazons seems like overkill, but she was certainly a difficult enemy. D’Eon and Astolfo get a beautiful sendoff for their teamwork and it’s written so well I could cry. D’Eon confessing that the exploits of Astolfo filled their imagination during their childhood, having grown up on such adventures in stories. Astolfo and D’Eon don’t even fight the boss with you, they work alone from you to buy you time with nothing but themselves to hold off the amazon horde.

Now after this, I admit, was painful. The Megalos fights were one of the worst fights I’ve had in FGO. It was too difficult for me for a long time and stalled me out, but I hardly consider one fight to condemn a story. The Demon God Pillar fight, unfortunately, was also terrible. These two fights, in my mind, were the worst parts about Agartha and why I say it’s not the best, but still not as bad as people make it out to be.

Now that I’m at the end of my rant, of which I’d like to admit, was a little overboard, I’d like to thank you for your time. I would love to see how you actually felt about Agartha to enlighten me about people’s concerns and issues.

[sinfulnature]

hello, hello, hello ! i am late but i am here finally and i’m sorry it took me so long. below the cut you’ll find little write ups for each of my muses. wanted connections will be posted later but in the meantime please take this. 

{  chris  evans,  39,  cis  male,  he/him,  pansexual  }  welcome,  henry  king   !  you  make  a  living  as  a  high  profile  director  outside  of  the  island  ?  cool.  you’ve  been  here  for  two  and  a  half  weeks,  right  ?  staying  in  room  402  ?  you’re  into  ass  to  mouth  &  worship,  but  not  gaping  &  extreme  humiliation  ?  mr.  conway  will  be  sure  to  accommodate.  i  heard  you  were  most  excited  for  the  beach,  which  makes  sense.  rumor  has  it  you’re  resourceful  &  critical,  but  i  think  people  should  get  to  know  you  for  themselves.

introducing henry king, a high profile director who flies out annually to the resort to spend his summer months relaxing with his wife and boyfriend at his side. 

he had a mostly stable childhood, one that was spent with two younger siblings in tow and a mother who was like a prototype of what a pinterest mom would be. his father spent a lot of time at work and it’s something that, while henry doesn’t begrudge him for it now, was frustrating as a child and not knowing why he wasn’t there. 

the first major thing that henry remembered his father attending was his junior year of high school when he was the student director for a one act production of snapshots, an anthology of short plays. his father, also a director, took the time to give him notes about the things that could have been done to tighten up the show. the last four words were i’m proud of you. that was the moment that henry decided that he wanted to be a director. 

fast forward to college and he goes to the goes to the university of southern california’s film school and instead of taking just the director classes, he takes the time to add a year and a half to his time in college and gets a screenwriting degree out of it. 

his first production partner was his father, who promised henry that he would fund one movie, from top to bottom, with the help of a production company that was owned by a close friend. henry wrote and directed the thing himself and, though it didn’t garner major awards, it was screened at sxsw. that was enough. 

let it be known that henry knows that his introduction into the world of filmmaking was super nepotistic. he understands that he had so many more advantages than any other person in his shoes, at his time, first starting to make movies when he did, and he was still terrified of failing. 

with the above, it should also be known that henry goes out of his way to make sure he’s telling stories that, while he has not experienced them, he can find the right people to help him tell it and amplify voices that otherwise might not be heard. not out of guilt or a need to make up for his introduction to the business, but out of an understanding that his platform should be used to reach every single person and not alienate. 

due to the stresses of his job and the level of scrutiny he’s constantly under, he’s well known to seem to abscond from the world as soon as his movies have come out for the summer. as a director of typically action packed, star studded films, he’s usually on his way to the resort by the second or third week of june. 

though he makes so many of these action packed blockbusters, he also tries to make sure that he makes movies that appeal to his soul and finds himself in the process of developing a high fantasy series that’s in the same line as the authorless harry potter books and lord of the rings. 

this is his second year at the resort and henry can see this honestly becoming an annual thing for himself, his wife, and his boyfriend to do. so many frustrations of his are squashed down throughout the year, not through anyone’s own fault, but just because there’s a lot of weight on one’s shoulders when billions of dollars sit on it every year. this is the place where his hedonistic tendencies shine through and he’s not particularly mad about it. 

{  corinna  kopf,  27,  cis  female,  she/her,  pansexual  }  hey  there,  alexandrea  conway!  you’re  still  the  financial  officer  and  you’ve  been  working  here  for  two  and  a  half  years ?  and  you’re  living  in  villa  one.  cool.  you’re  into  body  worship  &  creampies,  but  not  extreme  humiliation  &  scat  play  ?  that’s  what  i  thought.  when  you’re  not  working,  you’re  at  her  villa,  right  ?  well,  makes  sense.  people  say  you’re  even  tempered  &  prying,  but  i  think  they  should  get  to  know  you  for  themselves. 

introducing alexandrea katherine conway née douglas, the wife of oliver conway and chief financial officer at the resort. they’ve been married for about two years.

she had a relatively happy childhood and comes from a line of claimants to a scottish duchy of hamilton. she’s the youngest of six children and does technically hold the title of lady but she’s never done anything with it and it’s more a funny story that she tells at parties than it is a serious thing she buys into because she always thought it was a family joke.

prior to coming to the resort, drea graduated from the wharton school of business double major in business and marketing. post graduation she spent a fair amount of time as a prominent social media influencer. her multi million follower platform has translated into some business for the resort in the form of some of their most consistent guests. 

at the time of marrying her husband, he offered for the resort to be something they shared in ownership and it sprung some little goblin in her head to deny his offer. she wanted to earn it and not marry into it. 

the joke in that, of course, is that when most people look at drea they see incredibly soft curves, the bright blonde hair, the fact that the most articles of clothing she owns are just bathing suits, swim cover ups, and the occasionally very beautifully form fitting dress, the word bimbo appears in their mind on repeat. other words come to mind, too, but that’s the one that drea finds comes up most often. 

if we’re being really honest, in the depths of her soul, there’s something that drea finds funny about it. there is a gift in being underestimated and who cared what their perceptions were ? her happiness with her husband and job did not rely on anyone but herself.

she has incredibly open sexual preferences but with a body like hers she favors worship and the kinds of things that don’t leave bruises unless they are loves bites. drea is a switch and is happy to lead or follow, though goddess remains either way, if you’re interested in having her.  

{  inbar  lavi,  33,  cis  female,  she/her,  lesbian  }  welcome,  elodie  bram  !  you  make  a  living  as  an  international  fashion  designer  outside  of  the  island  ?  cool.  you’ve  been  here  for  two  weeks,  right  ?  staying  in  villa  two  ?  you’re  into  face  sitting  &  rimming,  but  not  food  play  &  blood  play  ?  mr.  conway  will  be  sure  to  accommodate.  i  heard  you  were  most  excited  for  the  beach,  which  makes  sense.  rumor  has  it  you’re  empathetic  &  domineering,  but  i  think  people  should  get  to  know  you  for  themselves.  {  dottie,  22,  est,  she/her  }

introducing  elodie odeya bram, an international fashion designer who makes an annual pilgrimage to the island as part of her process of designing her next year’s summer line. she had a relatively 

elodie has always strived to make sure that her brand is inclusive to all sizes and genders. another facet of her brand is that her clothes are considered kosher as they are fully made from plant or animal fibers but not both. her interest in design first came in high school when she was helping to craft costumes for a play and things spiraled from there. 

she realized that it was her passion, she attended the parsons school for design, and graduated with an apprentice ship under another designer who had long since been an inspiration for her own work.

elodie’s first collection to make waves happened a few years ago, when she was thirty and her mentor had agreed to take six pieces and let a capsule collection of elodie’s creation as part of their slot in paris’ fashion week. her luck in this mentorship was not beyond her and her good fortune has been at the forefront of her mind for years. seldom is there a night where she does not thank her lucky stars for all the things that have happened and continue to happen.

her mentor, in opening so many doors, also opened the door to the resort and has brought her into the light of one of her favorite places of inspiration. as part of her stay in the villas, she does frequently sketch her own designs and occasionally, when she brings back women to spend time with her, she’ll dress some of them up in her newest designs to see how they’ll functionally work.  

she’s quite likely to pull together a collection of women she wants to spend time with and there’s almost always some kind of sexual activity happening in her villa. whether fellow guests or employees of the villa, elodie’s indiscriminate in any girl she flirts with and wants to make a move on and we stan her for it. 

{  madelyn  cline,  23,  cis  female,  she/her,  pansexual  }  hey  there,  penny  rourke  !  you’re  still  a  lifeguard  and  you’ve  been  working  here  for  two  weeks  ?  and  you’re  living  in  room  202.  cool.  you’re  into  rimming  &  exhibitionism,  but  not  fisting  &  scat  ?  that’s  what  i  thought.  when  you’re  not  working,  you’re  at  the  spa,  right  ?  well,  makes  sense.  people  say  you’re  insightful  &  fickle,  but  i  think  they  should  get  to  know  you  for  themselves.  {  dottie,  22,  est,  she/her  }

introducing penelope jean “penny” rourke, a sweet natured girl with a petty streak who grew up in a small town in oregon and honestly only considers going back when the weather in the new york makes her forget about how bad the weather in oregon is. 

she grew up in a lovely home with a big family, her mother owning her own small business and her father a detective at the local precinct. solidly middle class, there was very little that penny craved or needed that she did not get. she took on a maternal role in her home, a natural adoption as the oldest of seven children, and she had a hand in their upbringing. while others may have seen that as a burden, it was something that penny enjoyed with her whole heart. 

when she went off to college, she applied to all of the ivy leagues and got a significant scholarship to columbia, which is where she met archibald hughes, son of a virginia senator and guy who she said, “you can’t sway my attention from my studies” to on their first day of meeting. she moved in with him in an off campus apartment their junior year of school. he was her greatest hype man and while they’d been having serious talks about marriage and their future. 

her relationship with archie ended rather abruptly when his paranoia hit an all time high at the behest of his father. insidious rumors, according to penny, accusations of things she’d promised archie long before that she would never do. her devotion to him was near unbreakable and archie had found the one straw that broke her back and everything came crumbling down: he put his trust in someone else. 

recently single, in need of a fresh start and a warm place to go for the summer, and on her summer break from law school, penny has been ready to engage in her first ever hoe phase and has already started it with some success. her ex has recently shown up on the property, though, and that’s made some of her more recent encounters awkward, to say the least, but she’s making it work. 

{  tommy  martinez,  26,  cis  male,  he/him,  pansexual  }  welcome,  jamie  flores!  you  make  a  living  as  a  famous  musician  /  drummer  for  the  raptors  outside  of  the  island  ?  cool.  you’ve  been  here  for  one  week,  right  ?  staying  in  room  401  ?  you’re  into  threesomes  &  body  writing,  but  not  bathroom  play  &  scat  play  ?  mr.  conway  will  be  sure  to  accommodate.  i  heard  you  were  most  excited  for  the  docks,  which  makes  sense.  rumor  has  it  you’re  charming  &  nosy,  but  i  think  people  should  get  to  know  you  for  themselves.  

introducing james sebastian “jamie” ibarra flores, known professionally as jamie flores. he makes a living as a drummer for the raptors, a band that has achieved critical success and have just wrapped up their first tour and the release of their first album. it was his idea to come to key passion in the first place and it honestly super tracks. 

he’s been with the raptors for about three years and prior to joining with them, he’d heard about the resort and promised himself when he had enough to comfortably afford to go after setting his parents up with making sure that their mortgage was paid for and it wouldn’t be the literally most financially irresponsible decision he’s ever made when there were other things and people to prioritize.

prior to coming to the island, though, did he drop like $3k on a girl’s amazon wishlist because he’s simpin’ real hard ? yes. can he afford to do it ? Yes. 

not particularly religious and verging on the edge of anarchist, jamie uses his platform to promote a lot of social issues and advocate for the reformation of most systems in the united states. he will not shut up when he talks about politics and one of his most used photos on his camera roll is a picture of his degree in political science from ucla. he’ll come at you with facts and an army of stans. 

though he’s typically a relaxed kind of person he’s under the belief that he’s Totally Chill and this is Not At All True. he constantly wants to know 103% of the drama without being directly involved but he’ll do it from his couch and creeping through stan twitter on a burner account so if he accidentally likes something, it doesn’t get back to the band. 

he loves ,,, reading fan fiction and reader imagines about himself. 

sexually very open and just wants to have a good time while coming off the success of his tour with his bandmates. 

[princebugs]

A meeting with Niles.

Quivering digits rub and scratch at the back of his own neck, goosebumps rising as his eyes shift from corner to corner. He swallows, the nervous lump in his throat dissipating for only mere moments before quickly arising once more. His movements remain shaky, and shifty. He feels nervosa creeping up his spine leisurely, causing his hyperactivity to skyrocket. Remaining still is no easy task.

The male can almost discern a feeling of eyes on the back of his brunette tresses, watching him from the shadowed corner of the room. Perhaps a figure is awaiting the perfect time to pounce on the human and rip his throat out, at a pace fast enough that he wouldn't scream--- no one would hear his death. He whips his head in that direction, his heart pounding against his chest.

Cue a sigh of relief.

It's just dust. It's just dust, Gavin. Can't hurt you. Maybe fuck with your allergies a bit, but it won't hurt you. You're probably just crazy, like your uncle Kevin--- he still lives in that shed, right? Still talking about those damned 'creatures of the night', hiding in there with a shotgun with hopes that he'll be the one to kill 'em.

Maybe you'll be like that soon, if these delusions go any farther.

A sound of a doorknob clicking interrupts his thoughts and causes the male to jump in his seat, right forearm raising in a defensive manner before realizing that it was only his new therapist, clad in a black turtleneck and black pants.

When did he get here?

Gavin briefly takes a glance down at himself, and is just a slight bit pissed at himself for not dressing nicer.

If this was anything but a therapy session where Gavin would have to speak openly about his mental problems, he would have dressed better. He didn't see the point of wearing something appealing when it was just therapy, and his therapist was most likely going to be some old man or young female that he didn't need to impress.

Sadly for him, the male was definitely not an old man. He looked, roughly, around Gavin's age--- yet he had the sort of timeless face that could pass for a nineteen-year-old. The turtleneck's sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. Gavin usually considers turtlenecks "phckin' ugly" but this guy has changed the definition for him.

And he was overwhelmingly pale. Did he never go outside?

Lesson learned. Wear cute clothes EVERYWHERE.

“Mr. Reed?“ A voice brings Gavin out of his train of thought, and he notices that the male is no longer standing, and is, in fact, sitting right in the position ahead of him, with his head tilted in slight concern as well as confusion.

Dammit.

“Shit, ah,“ Gavin struggles to push away his thoughts for the time being, his nails scratching at the back of his neck as he awkwardly laughs half-heartedly. “Yeah, yeah. That's me, alright.“

The therapist merely emits a soft chuckle, though his mind seems to be elsewhere. He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks that he's making a mental note of some sort--- probably from his behavior. This feels almost like a job interview, and that makes Gavin straighten out his back and lock eye-contact with the male across from him, his cerulean optics now gazing into steel hues. This, however, prompts another brief snicker from him.

“This isn't a professional setting, Mr. Reed. You can sit however you see fit; it is better that you feel comfortable while we converse with one another.“

Gavin's brows furrow together in exiguous uncertainty--- this man spoke like he was reading from a college art essay. Though he said it wasn't professional, it almost felt like it was; like Gavin was being judged for every single movement he followed through with.

It was almost as if he was being ordered to feel more comfortable, which is the most awkward thing ever. It puts on pressure, and makes the situation even more uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Gavin leans back, slouching a modest amount whilst placing his elbows on the back of the couch he sat upon. He stared ahead with half-lidded eyes, and his therapist was studying his body language the entire time.

Gavin would consider this creepy, but it's alright because it's his therapist.

“I'm Dr. Anderson, but you can just refer to me as Niles,“ His therapist--Niles-- begins, his nimble fingers picking up a set of reading glasses and placing them on his visage for a few moments to seemingly read Gavin's file, then setting both the glasses and the file down on the table in front of him. “How about you tell me why you set this urgent appointment with me, hm?“

His voice was smooth, like velvet draped across pale skin. It brought chills down Gavin's back. Compared to how coarse and rough Gavin's voice was, Niles' voice was soothing.

Calm down, dude. This isn't a therapy session for questioning your sexuality. Reply to his question, fucknut!

“Yeah, sure, sure. Uh, where do I fuckin' start?“ Again, Gavin laughs to release some tension, and when the room is silent, he coughs. And continues. “Hah, erm... well, I've been having these weird delusions and feelings of someone watching me. Paranoia, or whatever. I can't sleep, either.“

The concept of therapy wasn't really Gavin's thing; the idea of sharing all of his thoughts with another person was just plain idiotic, in his opinion. He'd much rather keep his feelings to himself, but since his mother called him out of the blue and informed him that she had scheduled an appointment with an "experienced therapist with good reviews" (which sounded shady as hell) because she was worried.

Truth is, he couldn't blame her for being worried. He had shut himself in his apartment, and wasn't even going to work the majority of the time. And when he did go to work, he only got sent home because he continuously kept falling asleep at his desk. Probably because he doesn't feel the eyes on him as he sleeps at work.

“Interesting,“ Niles bobbed his cranium in confirmation, his weight now leaning back as he crosses his arms over one another. He always seems like he is analyzing Gavin in some way.

Weird as fuck.

“So, perhaps you could be having some sort of stalker, or PTSD from something happening to you in the pa--“

“No, no. It's not like that.“

Niles seems suddenly interested and more inclined to listen, his head once again now tilted to the side in curiosity as his brows raise upwards. “Oh?“

Gavin gulped--- the aura that this guy gave off was intimidating as hell, and it was difficult to trust him. “Yeah, like... if it was something like that, then wouldn't I feel some sort of recognition kind of thing? Stalkers are usually people that the person knows personally or knew personally, and PTSD... don't think that's applicable to this situation. I don't think it's that.“

“Elaborate.“

“If it was PTSD, then it wouldn't feel so... so...“ He struggled to search and find the correct vocabulary, the right words-- it was on the tip of his tongue. His eyebrows knit together in comprehension, irises looking down at the couch as he--

“Real?“

Niles' tone is almost demanding in generality; it causes Gavin to shudder and almost cower in fear. Momentarily, he remembers how stern his father's voice was, how it terrified him to his core. Fear can make anyone curl in on themselves.

Gavin nods his head, his grey-blue hues now gazing out the large-sized window located directly to his left, watching as doves fly away. “Y-- yeah. Real. I've experienced PTSD before, and it's nothing like that, at least not this time. It's inhuman, almost. Like... like someone, some thing is going to pounce on me at any second. I don't feel safe in my apartment by myself. Hah, I even had a little moment in here before you got here--- thought something was in the corner.“

His therapist only stares, bobbing his head every now and then as a way to show that he was listening. Though, it didn't seem like it. It was as if he already knew everything that Gavin was saying. He identifies a sudden feeling of recognition--- one that chills Gavin to his very core.

“I, uh--- have I met you before?“ The detective leans forward now, setting his elbows on his knees. He can feel the shadows under his eyes growing deeper-- is that normal? How long had it been since he had slept? Gavin's calloused phalanges weave through his brunette locks, then gripping them tightly. “God, I must be going crazy. Of course, I haven't seen you anywhere--- what am I thinking? Turnin' into Uncle Kev-- I've been seein' shit that just isn't there. It's probably just sleep deprivation, and this therapy session won't do anything, I'm just wastin' my ti--“

“Here, walk with me outside,“ His incoherent rambling is cut short by Niles' request.

Gavin's pate raises upwards, catching sight of the therapist's outstretched palm, reaching for him. Motioning for Gavin to take his hand. His eyes lock with Niles.

“Wowza! Hand-holding? At least take me out to dinner first, eh?“ Gavin internally slaps himself. Meanwhile, Niles just rolls his eyes. Not in an annoyed way--- in an amused manner. Phew, Gavin didn't scare away his therapist.

“Come on, you said that being in here made you have a little 'fit' as well, right? Perhaps being out instead of holed inside your apartment will make you feel better, in some fashion?“

Gavin ponders about his next move, though it didn't seem much like a request at this point. Niles just seemed like he was politely ordering him to go outside. Reluctantly, he places his tan-colored hand in Niles' pale palm, letting his hand envelop over Gavin's and pull him up to his feet abruptly.

---------------------------

They meandered around the perimeter of the building for several moments, neither of them uttering a single word the duration of their walk. Gavin wasn't particularly skilled at breaking the ice when it came to long periods of silence similar to this; he would usually make it worse, actually. Saying something that would be so unexpected that it catches the recipient off-guard, or something that just makes the air between them extremely awkward all of the sudden.

Eventually, Gavin can't stand it anymore. He coughs to clear his throat up, his hand clenching into a fist for him to cough into for a few moments before scratching at the back of his neck again, and again.

“So, like, you have any family around this area, or are you new to Detroit?“

Greaaat question, Gavin. What if he has no family, and you just brought up shitty memories? GOOD GOIN', PRICK.

Niles hums. “I am relatively new here, but my brother lives here with me. You probably saw him whilst walking around the building, yes? Shorter than me, brown eyes?“

Gavin recalls seeing someone who fit that description. “Yeah, that's your brother?“

“Indeed, he is. He's... a little brat sometimes, prefers to do his own thing, but he's still family. We had to move rather abruptly due to some... sudden consequences of our actions, I suppose. Nothing for you to worry about.“

That bewildered Gavin, but he decided not to press further.

Luckily, Niles kept the conversation going. If the silence began once more, Gavin thought he could die.

“You mentioned an uncle earlier?“

Right, during his ramble.

“Yeah, hahah--- Uncle Kevin. He's like, the weird family member, y'know? The one who lives in a shed with a shotgun--- claiming that he'll prevent the apocalypse by killing the bloodsuckers, or something like that,“ Gavin laughs at this, yet Niles is silent.

“How peculiar. Bloodsuckers, you say?“ Niles inclines his head towards Gavin, his arms remaining behind his back as he walked. “What do you think of that?“

Gavin's face scrunches up, emitting a confused noise before sighing softly, remembering that this was a therapy session after all. “I dunno, man. Frankly, I think the idea of vampires existing is stupid as fuck, actually. Like, wasn't it just a myth, or fairytale? Or something like that. Nonetheless, it's hella dumb, and I don't believe in it one bit. If I ever saw a vampire in front of my face, I'd probably call it ugly and scream.“

Niles does laugh at this. “Be careful about what you say, Mr. Reed, you never know who, or what, might be listening.“

The way he said this caused shivers to go down Gavin's back. He sneered at Niles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and emitting a disgruntled huff. “Don't even joke about that shit, man. I mean, I may find it funny, but the way you say that shit just makes me feel hella uneasy.“

“What if I told you that you should be feeling uneasy right now, Gavin?“ Niles' tone is almost playful, like a cat playing with its prey before chomping down on it.

Gavin just emits a confused noise in return. “Huh?“ He should be feeling uneasy? Why is that such a... weird statement to make?

“I'm just messing with you-- a mere jest. Everyone feels uneasy with their new therapist; that's a sign that you're normal, Gavin.“

Exhaling a soft suspire of relief. “See, when you're all serious like that all the time, I can't even tell the difference between the real seriousness and the fake. That's what makes me feel uneasy.“

“That's how life really is, though. No one can distinguish reality from dream, but we believe that we can. How sure are you right now that you are in reality? At this exact moment, do you know if I am real, or a figment of your imagination?“ The taller male stops in his tracks, and Gavin struggles to stammer out his reply.

Gavin turns his head to Niles.

“I-- I'm totally freaked right now, dude. You're gettin' all... weird. How the fuck did we go from talkin' about vampires to--- this??“

“Gavin. Keep your windows unlocked at night, okay? It's extremely difficult for someone to break a window in a quiet manner. And it just becomes a hassle to clean up later on...“

What the fuck?

Gavin has no time to respond, Niles speeds up and just walks away with a mere wink and a smirk with relatively sharp canine teeth for a human. Remarkably, Niles had no shadow. Weird, weird, weird. Everything about Niles was weird and unexplainable.

Gavin is left on the pavement outside the building with no one around him, awkwardly standing there. He didn't know where to go. Should he follow Niles? No, no--- Gavin didn't want to be around him anymore.

He must look pathetic, wanting to run away and cry to his mother about what had just occurred--- but he'll do it nonetheless.

There was only one thing that Gavin knew from his first and last encounter with his therapist.

He's locking the windows.

---------------------------------------

ALSO POSTED ON AO3:

[bellamygateoldblog]

best and worst relationships?

There’s a lot of varables to consider here, and I’m feeling sick and bored out of my mind, so i’m going the long way round. This is a nightmare to read on mobile, im so sorry.

‘Best’ and ‘Worst’ labels depend on a number of things:

— Story of the pairing

— General intrigue and how enjoyable their dynamic is to watch

— Chemistry of the two (or more) characters

— Presence (or lack of) valuable relationship qualities (is this relationship healthy according to the world it exists in?)

and the importance of each of those differs from person-to-person.

Note: Sticking to popular relationships. I’ve blocked names, but I’m also throwing it under a Read More because it’s long and negative. It’s largely anticlarke because she’s a terrifying character and her mere existence derails most of her dynamics. Ship and like whatever you like, I hate fandom gatekeeping. But you asked so let’s go.

There’s also no order to this. Welcome to chaos land.

Best ‘Best’ List: objectively good relationships

— Linctavia

— Marper 

— Spacekru

— David and Nate Miller

— Raven and Sinclair

Unconditional love, mutual respect and support, found family, would die (and live) for the other. I can’t find fault in them.

Memori

I had a bit more to say about this one because there’s something so highly romantic in two people abandoned by their clan, cast out, finding each other in a literal desert wasteland. Like they’re each other’s oasis. In meeting Emori, Murphy finally found acceptance after spending far too long alone, and being told he was worthless by people who’s approval meant something. And Emori having someone prepared to do whatever it takes to protect her and make her happy is everything I could’ve wanted for her. They’re so deeply in love.

Best List

Becho (pre-season six)

Your local enemies-to-lovers. partnership over co-dependency. Compromise. Affection and emotional support from both sides. Willing to throw themselves right into line-of-fire for the other. A cut ‘i love her’ scene which i’ve personally decided wasn’t cut. I LOVE THEM.

Arguments against:

- ‘killed’ Gina (moreso she aided her death) while acting on orders from her superiors

- ‘killed’ Octavia while acting on orders from her superiors

- killed Ilian/ attempted to help Roan win conclave over Octavia

- almost killed Clarke (season five)

- happened offscreen

Arguments to discredit previous arguments because I’m sick and tired of seeing them in the pro tags:

- Echo was Bellamy’s enemy through those first three listed events. Bellamy had no reason to expect loyalty or respect, or anything else from her. She was always looking out for her people just as Bellamy was his own. That was quite clear.

- In fact she actually tried to help Gina because she was important to Bellamy, apologised that she couldn’t and did save Bellamy’s life despite their enemy status.

- ‘killing’ Octavia was not in cold blood. It was actually an accident.

- This one is nonsense. She wanted to kill Clarke during season five “even though she’s important to Bellamy”…after she just left him to brutally die and held Echo and her family at gunpoint and threatened to kill them. Context matters.

- not a fan of the time jump either, but if you’re able to accept the Madi-Clarke relationship which also developed offscreen, you can deal with this one.

Hard to talk about this one without defending it. Echo deserves better than season six Bellamy, who would abandon her in order to chase a woman he knew for 6-ish months 6 years ago. I say it’s his loss.

Jonty

It was a beautiful relationship and then a beautiful breakdown of one. I really enjoyed their dynamic. About to get controversial and suggest Monty could’ve taken a different approach with Jasper. I’ve never committed genocide and had to learn to live with it while watching my best friend suffer from the decision, but I do have clinical depression and somewhat relate to Jasper. There was this scene, where in the background you see Jasper go to hug Monty goodbye and he avoids it. It was such a small but sad detail. I felt Monty wanted Jasper to deal with his grief in a certain way and got frustrated when he didn’t. Sometimes he could be insensitive and blaming, and i think had there been more communication their friendship could’ve been very healing for the both of them. I think we learn at one point Jasper actually thought Monty was “fine” and didn’t even realise or understand that Monty hurt too. Jasper had this tendancy to only consider his own feelings, and this put a rift between them. Tough love doesn’t work for everyone, and I think Monty’s sometimes cold approach held that rift in place. The simple fact that both sides are so easy to understand and empathise with, and that this gradual undoing of what was once an incredibly strong bond was inevitable, made watching it all wonderfully bittersweet.

Zaven

This was good, but it was so rushed it made me bitter towards them. While it was Raven being thrown with yet another random guy, this did strike me as much more meaningful than her fling with Wick and I think it would’ve been a lovely relationship had it been able to continue. I think this was that love Raven deserved. It’s a damn shame it was used as just another level of torture for her. I think if they had let it develop more naturally and not been so full-on so soon, and of course if the actor hadn’t opted to leave the show, this would’ve been up on my best ‘best’ list.

Dropping this here: being intelligent isn’t actually important when pairing Raven up. Fandom acts like she needs someone “on her level” or “at her speed” (shudders), someone to challenge her, which has always come across as very demeaning of characters with less intellectual capacity, as if they’re less than Raven because of this when they are absolutely not. This mentality also denies Raven of partners that can value her and treat her well just because they aren’t Stephan Hawking. A romance isn’t a competition or a class project. Shaw was good for her, not because of what his brain could do, but because of who he was.

Bellamy and Octavia

This bitch toxic, YEET. I adore it. I really do. It’s such an intriuging and complex dynamic. The poisonous nature of their relationship is neither of their own faults, they’re both a victim of their own circumstances and, in Octavia’s case, a lack of socialisation and, by extension, non-understanding of grey area is also intrinsicaly linked to it. They truely love one another, but aren’t learned in how to show this in healthy ways. Makes that back-and-forth an entertaining watch.

Main grievance:

Beating your brother bloody while he’s chained down and unable to defend himself against you is disturbing and inexcusable in any context, and whether or not you’re grieving is irrelevant.

Neutral List

C//exa

Placing this one here just because i don’t care about this relationship, but did like bits and pieces. I think this one ended before it even started. For me most of it’s appeal is in the gradual moulding of the dynamic and the many phases it went through. I did find intrigue in that journey. However the fact the show reminds me at least a few times a season that Lexa was the one has me digging my heels in. I hate being told what to think.

I don’t really remember it all that well so I don’t necessarily have strong opinions. I know some people do. At this point in the show I was growing more and more annoyed with Clarke, and eventually i went from liking Lexa to being indifferent to her, so a dynamic consisting of them both was the least interesting thing in the world to me by the time it started heating up.

I will say this is probably one of the only significant relationships Clarke has where she doesn’t ultimately have more power than the other half. There isn’t a mechanism there that allows one to use to do harm to the other to advantage themselves; Lexa is the commander, but Clarke is constantly pushing back and Lexa respects and listens to what she has to say. There is literally a shot of Clarke backing the most powerful person on the ground into a table. I think Clarke was a positive influence on Lexa, but during this time Clarke was slipping into worse and worse versions of herself.

Some thoughts:

I found it was innappropriate for Clarke, as a leader of her people who’s primary concern is supposed to be what’s best for them, to have become romantically involved with the commander of the people they hadn’t a stable relationship with, and who ultimately has the power to strip them of all freedoms. It’s so easy for those romantically and sexually charged feelings to cloud and confuse what are extremely important considerations to be made about the people back home. It wasn’t a very responsible relationship.

On the flipside of that, from this relationship Lexa was convinced to grow into peace. Which is quite obviously a positive affect. Though I found it was odd that Clarke, just a random teenage girl from space, would be (successfully) telling the commander how to manage her people when she herself was not at home overseeing the climate of her own. It just has some very weird implications.

Lexa’s betrayal at mount weather, actually a very silly and counter-productive decision, was what forced Clarke to lose her humanity in what was the most traumatic event of her entire life. The fact it was forgiven so easily was hard for me to get over.

M//rphamy

Season five was good for them. It seemed as if they’d grown, were much closer, more respectful, and more affectionate. Then season six happened, and Bellamy was back to treating Murphy like he was beneath everyone. He started again to talk about how therapeutic it would be to hurt him, as he has, physically, many times in the past. Just tearing open old wounds at this point. In season five he reminded Murphy he wasn’t worthless, that he did belong with the group, but in season six he went back on all that, and put Clarke ahead of him at every turn, and prioritied her feelings over his very real pain. They’ve had a complicated history of violence, usually coming from Bellamy’s more hot-headed side.

I put this here because it’s an immensely compelling dynamic. These characters work well together, there’s heaps of chemistry and allure in each of their interactions. It’s just an entertaining time whenever they share scenes. But despite that, I don’t know where I stand with them and I don’t know where they stand with each other as of season six.

Worst List

Be//arke

There is a mess of negative thoughts inspired by this relationship about proportionate to the amount it’s shoved in my face. Clarke is just no good for Bellamy. Is the concise way of putting it.

Here’s a list of some of them which I usually like to bury deep inside my head for sanity purposes:

Ignoring whether or not actions were for the people/the only option and focusing solely on how the relationship is affected by them regardless

- Clarke has a tendancy to view the most important person (pre-season five) in Bellamy’s life as necessary collateral damage. She has brought/almost brought harm to Octavia on multiple occasions, the two most notable being TonDC and the conclave. Both while being on the same side as Bellamy from a political standpoint, and both while his friend who he had reason to expect affirmation, consideration, and loyalty from. Clarke betrays those key values. This happens again in season five when Clarke’s Plan-A solution is to “take her out.”

( this is also what sets her apart from Echo, who was never in the position to make her own choices. Clarke has that agency and control that Echo’s superiors had, but never Echo. )

- and saying that, I think it’s incredibly hard for Clarke to maintain any meaningful relationships being in the position she’s in. How do you have friends when you have to always put them second?

- speaking of the conclave, Clarke held Bellamy at gunpoint in order to prevent him saving his sister’s life. She said she “didn’t pull the trigger” and that was that. All is forgiven. However she did pull the trigger in what was an attempt to scare him into submission so I really don’t even know what to say here. The writers kinda forgot?

- they aren’t equal. They haven’t been co-leaders since season one. He was demoted almost immediately to second-in-command beneath Clarke. Clarke is the leader, the literal head. She makes the choices while Bellamy gets her out of the trouble she usually gets herself into, risking himself and others in the process. It’s a racist trope. It’s the ‘white princess and her brown knight.’ She has agency and power and he’s her loyal soldier, subordinate. Inequality isn’t inherently a bad thing but this power imbalance between them is utilised in harmful ways.

- speaking of “the good knight by his queen’s side,” this comes across as codependency. Clarke relies on Bellamy’s support, validation and loyalty, while ‘the heart needs the head to tell it to beat.’ That’s paraphrased from season six, that’s an actual line in the show. Bellamy needs her to guide him, to “keep [him] centred,” that’s another line from the show. That’s still not enough? He literally tells us in season six that he needs her, and has needed her in the past if his psychosis episode is anything to go by. He has impeccably low self esteem and views himself less than. I mean if you need further convincing of they’re inequality, just look to their places on the ark which are quickly reinstated once it reaches the ground. Clarke is upper class, she’s later the daughter of the chancellor, she comes from a loving family, from one of (if not, the) more well-off stations, she’s educated and she has passions, but Bellamy? From the poorest ark station, raised by an emotionally abusive mother, a janitor, his whole motivation his entire life has been to love and protect Octavia. I think a lot of this devotion he has for her comes from a place of idolisation, of seeing something in her he wants for himself.

- now this ugly trope could also come from an absense of Octavia. The moment they get to the ground Octavia is on a journey of self-discovery. And eventually, she becomes her own protector, and she finds a home in Lincoln. So naturally Bellamy looks for the closest relationship he can find that resembles that old one. It’s Bellamy and Clarke. Now, instead of Octavia, he’s driven by and found purpose in protecting Clarke. In fact, the Clarke-Bellamy dynamic has so many similarities to the Octavia-Bellamy one I can absolutely see the sibling like quality to Be//arke.

- Clarke abandons Bellamy after mount weather. She leaves because she can’t bare the reminder of “what [she] did to get them here.” So she leaves and instead Bellamy is the one forced to see the faces of the 48 every day, reminding him of what he did to get them there. Clarke comes across as completely oblivious in this entire situation. Bellamy and Monty are both written using the word “we” to refer to the mount weather genocide, but Clarke? It’s “I” and “me” every time. It’s as if she truely believes she’s the only one suffering from it, she’s bearing it so they don’t have to, except that isn’t true at all and that fact is so painfully clear. Later she tells him she knew she could leave because the people had him, but who did Bellamy have? He dealt with that weight and that grief alone because the only other person who could possibly understand, the one who pulled the lever with him, ran away. After she had convinced him not to in season one. She then comes back informing him she’d been acting on behalf of her people in Polis, without the people’s own knowledge or consent, but i digress, and he’d just ruined everything. So much for co-leaders. And he blows up at her, and we see how badly this action hurt him.

- In season five she leaves him to die out of spite and took her daughter to the people he saved her from at the beginning of the season. It could’ve been avoided, but she decided to punish him. That’s all it was. Don’t give me none of that “I had to!!!” she screams in season six to mindspace!Octavia. Bellamy was forced into role of father at just 6 years old and has proved time and time again he was prepared to risk it all in order to protect his child, there was nobody more equipped to handle Madi than him and her yelling in his face that he couldn’t understand was perhaps the biggest betrayal of them all.

- In season five she tortured and almost murdered his entire family. After switching sides again at the end of the season, all this pain inflicted was meaningless. You can talk all you want at me about Clarke’s *reasons* but all she did was take the path of most destruction towards the same end-point. It was just unnecessary violence caused because she had this desperation to take the wheel.

- all of this works because the writing is always in Clarke’s favour. The show is framed in a way that makes Clarke sympathetic, emphasises how much causing others pain hurts her, and that means that she’s never held to any of these actions, she might get a stern talking to but she’s forgiven insanely easily and allowed to go on with no actual change.

Pr//ncess M//chanic

Unfortunately, from what i’ve gathered, there’s a lot of racism in this one just as there is in Be//arke. I mean the entire nature of the relationship relies on the elevation of Clarke and the narrative power to demote Raven to ‘second best’ and prop over and over again. Raven, a girl who works her ass off to make most of the victories in the show possible, actually spoke the words “she saved us again” after launching a pod from an exploding planet into space and fixing the ark while space walking. It’s mindblowing. Raven’s (and others’) successes are handed to Clarke on a silver platter and we’re just meant to eat that up and blindly accept that Clarke is our one true saviour. I’m not going into this because it makes me feel sick and Raven deserved better.

Unrelated thoughts:

I don’t see their relationship as friendly at all post-season two. I got the impression Raven actually didn’t like Clarke, but it was all very complicated.

I also think it’s terribly convinient Raven never found out the true nature of Clarke’s relationship with Lexa because I don’t believe she would’ve ever been okay about Clarke again if she had (if the writers were going for realistic).

Madi/Clarke/Abby

Clarke strapped a torture device around her daughter’s neck for means of control and activated it under the guise of protection and that isn’t okay in any world or any context. Madi is a little girl who is dependant on Clarke and Clarke betrayed that trust. Those shock collars were used on her early in the season, she experienced the torture herself and still used it on her child. A lot of Clarke’s more unfavourable and/or unhealthy behaviours and characteristic are also present in Abby, which leads me to believe those are a product of her upbringing. Like mother like daughter, Abby also electrocuted Raven. Abby and Clarke have this strange rival-like relationship and I find it particularly cold, maybe because they’re so similar.

Abby and Raven

Abby has physically harmed Raven more than once. Out of anger and spite, or out of desperation. People hurting each other on this show is pretty standard and while this isn’t as overwhelming a mistreatment compared to others, her hitting Raven while she was acting chancellor was a pretty gross abuse of power. Its a visual display, with Abby’s imposing figure looming over a sitting and emotionally vulnerable Raven. We’re supposed to view this, i think, as mother-daughter. Abby says very early season one that Raven reminds her of Clarke, but she’s never shown treating Clarke in the way she does Raven. I liked the relationship during season one. From then and with Abby’s slow descent into villainy, not so much.

Ontari and Murphy

*She raped him. Next.

Cl//phy

Clarke is a cause/reason, whether direct or indirect, of a huge chunk of Murphy’s suffering, all of which she’s never been held accountable for due to Murphy’s position as undesirable. I, along with Murphy, had to be told she cares about him in season six because her otherwise complete disregard for his life has been pretty apparent.

Notable mention:

Chaining up him and Emori like dogs and promising to sacrifice the woman he loves, against her will, for the greater good after he saved her life. He has to beg her, plead with her and her almighty god complex, and it’s all quite uncomfortable and eery. (She later draws a picture of this event in her sketchbook which is…kinda weird.) And, in true Clarke fashion, she refuses to accept responsibility for this action and hides behind the same old trend of gaslighting and screaming “i had to!!!” I can’t root for a friendship between these two no matter how fun their back-and-forth can be. Especially since I can’t recall a single time they’ve shared a nice moment. Oh, and here’s a post about why Clarke and Murphy will never bond over isolation and survival.

*The clashing of Ontari and Murphy’s personalities was hilarious and I enjoyed watching them on screen together.

[crystallinecrimsonmoth]

idk if ur still looking for a prompt but winterspider + “this is a five-hour-long plane ride, we’re sitting together and you’re deathly afraid of flying” AU would be real cute

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt - I’ve been so bored and needed something to write other than my ongoing stories. I hope this is okay ^^

To everyone who sees this fic, anonymous or not, feel free to send more prompts ‘cause I am bored as shit right now and need inspiration.

p.s. Tony Stark is alive in this because I love him too much and refuse to write a fic in which his death was permanent :3

Peter had headed to the airport that day with no small amount of fear. He’d never been on a plane before, and despite having flown through the sky at faster speeds on his webs, the idea of being trapped in a pressurised metal container thirty-thousand feet up with no way out was not appealing at all.

The plan had been to travel Asia solo for a bit of life experience, so he didn’t take the offer of going on Mr Stark’s private jet, no. He decided to go on a public plane, on his lonesome, over the Pacific Ocean.

He’d travelled on his own before, sure, on ferries and in cars, buses - all on the surface of the planet. But flying was a whole new game, and he barely kept it together long enough to get through the doors of Newark Airport, only managing a slight smile to the lady behind the check-in desk.

‘Can I have your boarding pass and passport, please, sir?’ The lady with a kind face smiled at him, putting Peter somewhat at ease as he handed over the documents from his pocket.

His foot tapped on the tiled floor of the airport while she checked over his paperwork, worried that someone would question his age and why he didn’t have an adult with him. At seventeen, he didn’t need one, but May had warned him that they might still ask just to make sure he was okay alone.

He didn’t like the idea of being questioned but smiled anyway when the check-in lady, Olivia, asked him that very question.

‘I see you’re travelling alone today. We have escorts on call for young people like yourself if you’d like me to call one?’ She smiled, offering him his boarding pass and passport back as Peter lifted his suitcase up onto the conveyor belt.

‘No, I’m fine. Travelling on my own is sort of the point today.’ He insisted, glad when she didn’t ask any more questions and let him move on with his satchel over his shoulder.

Getting through security was leisurely since all he had on him was Tony’s glasses and the bag, which both scooted through the x-ray machine quite easily. Peter moved onto the lounge once he’d checked the boards for his flight number, glad when he found a Starbucks and rushed in there for something sugary to calm his nerves.

Two caramel frappes later and the teen was hyped up on sugar, bouncing around like he was five years old again as he waited another hour for his flight number to be called.

By then, the sugar had disappeared.

His knee was vibrating as he stood in the line of passengers waiting to have their boarding passes checked. The only thing calming his nerves at that stage was the music he had playing in his ears via E.D.I.T.H., the familiar tune of Mr Stark’s AC/DC playlist lulling him into a sense of security without the man there.

He knew Tony would be keeping an eye on him throughout the trip, he’d told him so the day before, so he wouldn’t have anything to worry about if something went wrong. And he had to admit, having the older man watch his back constantly like that was more comforting than invasive after the Battle of Earth.

‘Your boarding pass, sir?’

‘Yeah, here you go.’ Peter grinned when he got to the man at the gate, handing over the document as the volume on his music turned down automatically.

It only took a moment for him to be let into the jetway, but as he approached the aeroplane door and the bright-faced attendant standing beside it, all his anxiety came back. With shaky legs, Peter moved onto the plane, finding his seat and tucking his bag underneath it before looking out of the window, one hand gripping the arm of the chair tightly to prevent it from shaking.

He sat like that for about five minutes before louder than average voices started from the front of the plane, distracting him from his anxious thoughts about the fact that he’d be so high in the air and so fucked if the plane crashed with no way out.

‘For the love of God, Sam, stop talking!’

‘I’m just saying, man, if we’d gotten here earlier we could have had a better dinner!’

‘You were in the air force, you should be used to shit food!’

‘Well, I’d like to enjoy life now, I don’t have to eat crap anymore!’

Peter’s head lifted at the sound of the familiar voices and he winced at the sight of Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He still hadn’t spoken to either of them since Berlin, nor had he made eye contact with them during the Battle of Earth, so he wasn’t entirely sure if they liked him or not. He assumed the latter, considering what he’d done to them at the airport, but Mr Stark had promised him the pair didn’t hate him as much as he thought they did.

He tried to hide his face, regardless of Iron Man’s reassurance, hoping he could avoid being seen. If they even focused on him long enough in the fight with Thanos to know what he looked like. He hid under his fringe of brown curls, longer now since he’d been too busy to get a haircut, and held his breath.

The two older men sat down in the seats beside him, just his luck, but neither seemed to acknowledge Peter as they settled in and clipped their seatbelts on.

‘I swear to God, if you drink too much on this flight and force me to get out of my seat to let your fat ass past, I will kill you.’

‘My ass is not fat, it’s thicc.’

‘I’m going to kill Shuri too for teaching you that language.’

‘Whatever, bird-brains.’

Peter had to suppress a laugh at the friendly argument between the two, tapping the side of his glasses to activate his music again and relaxing into the seat, failing to notice his fringe fall to the side and reveal his youthful face to the soldiers sitting next to him.

For a few minutes, Peter’s peace went undisturbed other than the sound of the flight attendant going through safety procedures, but then the plane lurched into action, and his hands gripped the armrests with white knuckles. 

‘Afraid of flying, doll?’

His eyes widened at the sound of Barnes’ voice, a somewhat pale hand coming up to rest on his clothed arm as it shook in place. Peter nodded, trying to stay calm, so they didn’t realise it was him, but then Sam spoke up.

‘Spider-Man?’

Hesitantly, Peter lifted his head, meeting the steel blue of Bucky’s eyes and gulping.

‘Hey, guys.’

‘Hey.’ Peter’s heart skipped a beat when Bucky actually smiled at him, like the airport never happened, and he saw Sam gesture to his hair at the corner of his eye.

‘You let your hair grow out since the battle. Suits you.’ He smiled too, and the teen was getting whiplash from how different their personalities were outside of fighting.

He nodded just a little, dumbfounded by how nice they were being, and feeling frozen in place by Bucky’s eyes.

MESSAGE ALERT

Mr Stark: Your heart rate just increased, what’s wrong?

Peter’s eyes widened more if possible and he flickered his eyes across the screen at different letters to reply.

Pete: Nothing’s wrong, Mr Stark, I’m fine!

Bucky’s face morphed into a brief frown as he watched Peter, clearly confused by the rapid movement of his eyes, but he leaned back into his seat soon after, facing forward with a sigh and letting Peter sink back into his chair.

The younger man was mortified, and he was pretty sure he was bright red in the face, and only then did he realise that they were already in the air and the window just showed giant white clouds now.

Fuck, he’d never been this high before. He couldn’t even see land anymore as he searched the outside with wide eyes, his hands shaking where they still gripped the armrest.

Nine hours into the flight, Peter woke with a startle. Somehow, he’d managed to fall asleep. He wasn’t entirely sure it was natural, having the faint memory of Bucky emptying something into his drink, but he went along with it nonetheless, feeling much better when he woke up.

Glancing to the side that didn’t have a window, the teen found both Sam and Bucky fast asleep too, Bucky’s face turned towards him. His nostrils fluttered with every breath he took in his unconscious state, eyes flickering underneath the lids, and pale lips pressed together loosely in a tired expression.

Peter gazed at him without shame now that he was asleep, fascinated by the man and every part of his history. He looked better without the beard, and while he had been gorgeous with long hair in the past, the short hair from his time in the war was a marvellous improvement.

The younger man hadn’t realised he had a crush on the soldier until a few nights after the airport fight, when his mind formulated a wet dream about that metal hand wrapped around his throat, forcing him to confront both his sexuality and the reality of how bad he had it for his superhero counterpart.

The lack of interaction in the Battle of Earth did nothing to stop his libido, the sight of Bucky’s new and improved arm doing bad, awkward things to his insides. He had to focus on more important things back then, but now the man was in front of him, breathing the scent of coffee onto his face and making him daydream about how it would feel to kiss him. So he did, pressing his lips to the soldier’s gently and enjoying the slight burn of new stubble on his top lip as he moved his mouth on his.

Then the plane lurched, and the flight attendant called out that they were experiencing some turbulence, nothing to be concerned about, but Peter was already hiding his face in Bucky’s chest, shaking and terrified of the violent movement.

His mind ran through a thousand different scenarios of how the plane could malfunction and send them all plummeting to their deaths. Only when five minutes had passed and he realised they weren’t falling out of the sky, did the teen realise that Bucky’s flesh hand was rubbing up and down his back.

He jumped so far back in his seat that the back of his head hit the window, and he stared at Bucky with wide eyes. The man stared back at him with wide eyes too, before his hand was reaching out towards him.

‘Is your head okay? Sounded like you hit it.’ He smiled, kindly, and Peter cringed from the memory of kissing those smiling lips while the Winter Soldier had been unconscious.

He crept forward to sit up straight on the chair, hesitant when Bucky tucked the curls that had fallen in front of his eyes behind his ear.

‘What? I don’t get another kiss?’ The older grinned and Peter felt his face burn with the confidence in his voice, the realisation that Barnes had both felt the kiss and asked for another one only making his blush worse.

He tried to play it cool, though, coughing and rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

‘I didn’t kiss you, Sergeant Barnes.’

‘Yes, you did, Peter Parker. Right here, with those soft lips of yours.’ Peter resisted the instinct to bite the thumb that traced his lips, letting Bucky touch him even though he was shaking under that touch.

‘I d-didn’t.’ He insisted, trying to fight back again, but then the plane went into another bout of turbulence, and the instinct to bite was replaced with the instinct to protect himself.

The teen buried his face in Bucky’s chest without thinking, his whole body trembling as the plane battered around, and he heard a faint chuckle from above.

‘’S okay, doll, I’ll protect you.’ Barnes pressed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, but Peter could only cower in response, still frightened of the rumbling cabin.

‘Only five hours to go.’ The soldier’s deep voice hummed in a soothing tone, and it wasn’t long before Peter’s terrified form slumped into a deep sleep from exhaustion, staying unconscious until they arrived in Tokyo.

[marshmallowgoop]

On Ragyo Kiryuin

Please note: This post will contain discussions of sexual assault and abuse.

I am not good at talking about Ragyo Kiryuin.

Every time I do, I mess it up. I don’t emphasize her atrocities enough. I emphasize her atrocities too much. I cause trouble for myself and others, and I always end up feeling awful.

My recent writing on Ragyo’s character—found here and here—proved no different. The reception for the first post was so overwhelmingly negative that it spurred on my first-ever legitimate anon hate, and the second post only made things worse. Even now, my inbox is being filled with dismissive, rude, heartbreaking messages that bring me to tears, and though my therapist has told me not to say that I hate myself anymore, it’s difficult not to in situations like these. I hate that my wording was so poor and that I stated my opinion so badly that I incited all this rage and aggression in someone (or someones, a thought that scares me more than I would like to admit).

It may be a mistake to try to explain myself further. But I hurt people with what I said, and that bothers me. I hurt people because I struggle to explain my feelings on a cartoon character well, and I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed. I’m ashamed. I want to at least put in the effort to be kinder, more nuanced, and more sympathetic.

And maybe it’ll all blow up in my face. But I don’t want to not try.

So. Ragyo Kiryuin. Mother of Satsuki Kiryuin and Ryuko Matoi, CEO of REVOCS, and the ultimate Big Bad of Kill la Kill. Love her, hate her, or love her and hate her, she’s certainly made an impression in the anime-viewing world. And though I can’t speak for anyone else’s impression, my personal impression is... mixed.

Let’s go through this bit by bit.

A Good Villain?

Though I don’t see it much anymore, I remember lots of comparisons between Ragyo and the villains of Saturday morning cartoons back in the day. She was described as a generic, two-dimensional “evilz for the sake of evilz” baddie and criticized for her simplicity.

And though I did admittedly agree to an extent—I craved a lot more depth and insight, particularly in regards to her haunting line about “still having something of a human heart” whilst brutally attacking her own daughter in the final episode—I also found Ragyo to be a remarkably compelling, powerful, and horrifying villain even without tons of backstory and explanation. Perhaps my write-up on her first scene in episode 6 best details why; this woman has such a presence, and the visual language of the series amplifies that presence spectacularly. Ragyo’s intimidating and scary without the audience even needing to know anything about her.

And... I’d say that’s a good villain. That’s exactly what a villain should do.

Why Does This Matter, Goop?

I know, I know. My talking about Ragyo’s efficiency as a villain probably doesn’t seem all that relevant to the stuff that egged on an anon hate assault. But I think it’s important to mention that I do believe that Ragyo is a great, powerful villain. My previous posts were so bleak and cynical that I didn’t make this point clear. It does, in retrospect, seem as though I am crapping all over the character and subtly dissing anyone who enjoys her. I’m sorry for that, and I want to stress that that was not at all my intention.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with loving villains—even when they’re morally bankrupt, atrocious people like Ragyo—because loving villains, of course, doesn’t automatically mean that you excuse or endorse their actions. Villains like Ragyo also leave such a strong impression on the viewers, and personally, I’ve been so captivated by this awful woman that my first attempt at my years-in-the-making Kill la Kill fairytale AU featured about a 30,000-word backstory for her. There is a lot to respect, love, and love to hate when it comes to Ragyo and how she’s written, and I never, ever mean to discount that.

However, as with all things, it’s possible to love a piece of fiction or a character or what have you and also recognize that there are problems in the portrayal. And when it comes to Ragyo, as much as I think she’s a fantastic, engaging, terrifying villain, I do take issue with her depiction.

The Sexuality Point

I got a lot of heat for my ideas regarding Ragyo’s sexuality, and I admit: I didn’t express myself well. There was a lot more I should have said and elaborated upon. Maybe I’ll still fail spectacularly, but as I said before, I don’t want to not try.

So first, I want to take a moment to discuss intentionality. While I absolutely value Author is Dead and respect fan interpretations of any work, I also recognize that narrative decisions in fiction don’t happen in a vacuum. The fact of the matter is, Ragyo was originally designed as a father but was later changed to a mother so the relationships Ragyo shares with her daughters wouldn’t seem so “murky,” “gross,” and “perverted.”

And... that disturbs me. The idea, as I see it, is that a father abusing his daughters is, more than appropriately, disgusting, but a mother abusing her daughters is somehow less bad. In fact, writer Kazuki Nakashima outright states that he didn’t want to explore the “murkiness” of these relationships, noting that he “didn’t want to mix [that] ‘murkiness’ into the battle.” My impression—which I understand might very well be wrong—is that there’s the feeling that female-on-female abuse just isn’t as serious or life changing as male-on-female abuse. There’s the feeling that you can just not talk about how devastating this sexual assault is, and that’s totally okay, because the perpetrator is a woman.

I’ve written previously—and perhaps most overtly here—that female-on-female abuse seems to get brushed off way more than it should be. It’s cute when a girl grabs another girl’s boobs, even when that other girl is noticeably and visibly unhappy. It’s adorable when a girl forces a kiss on another girl. Charming. Sweet. If you have a problem with it, you’re a homophobe.

And I think that’s so, so damaging. I wish I had some statistics (oh anon hounding me about facts, if you’re here), but I recall reading about how this mindset—this idea that girls just can’t hurt other girls—ends up keeping wlw in abusive, toxic relationships. And that’s not even mentioning how the notion that women are harmless and can’t do damage is a totally sexist one that hurts men and other genders, too!

With Ragyo, I actually think there’s a lot of powerful potential. Kill la Kill could have shown that there’s nothing sweet or cute or charming or sexy about female-on-female abuse. It could have shown that a mother sexually abusing her daughters is just as horrific as a father sexually abusing his daughters. Both good representation and bad representation are important, and I do see the value in an evil, awful lesbian; as noted above, the idea that girls can’t hurt other girls, that wlw can’t be bad, and that only men can cause harm is a dangerous mindset to have. I think it’s important to address it, particularly in anime, which attracts younger viewers.

In the past, I argued that Kill la Kill did address it. I wrote, “These scenes [depicting Ragyo’s abuses] are full of what may be typically used as fanservice—female nudity, fondling, touching—but they’re all incredibly disturbing, uncomfortable, painful, and tragic. The series makes no joke about just how violating these instances are.” I’ve seen similar arguments made today. 

But personally, now knowing more about the creation of Ragyo and being aware of the gushy, “Wow, this is so hot!”-type comments concerning the notorious bath scene in the official Trigger Magazine, I’ve since changed my tune. I think it’s undeniable that there is some “this isn’t so bad and maybe actually kinda sexy” appeal to Ragyo’s abuses, and that’s very, very disappointing to me. 

Further, being a survivor, I also find it incredibly hurtful. I’ve been too traumatized to even date ever since what happened to me happened, and to see situations like what I went through depicted in such explicit, detailed, fanservice-y ways... it disturbs me.

I understand that my opinion isn’t going to be shared by everyone, but I’ve come to believe in a “less is more” approach when it comes to these hard, real situations. Implication arguably holds far more power. For example, in all of my college film classes, Osama left one of the strongest impressions. In it, a young girl dresses as a boy to provide for her family. She’s eventually found out when she has her first period, and she’s then married off to a much older man. The ending scene of the film depicts the man washing himself just as the girl, in disguise as a boy, had been taught to do after having sex. Unlike in Kill la Kill, you don’t see the unspeakable scene at all. You know exactly what happened with just that one shot, and that one shot has stuck with me ever since. That’s a powerful, respectful way of portraying these very real, very horrific problems.

I know I cannot speak for every survivor, but I personally disagree with the notion that fiction should not discuss these topics. In my mind, fiction absolutely should because these things are real, because they happen. There could have been so much power in Ragyo’s depiction, in Satsuki’s depiction, in Ryuko’s. But the severity of Ragyo’s abuses is brushed off, and, as I see it, fetishized. That’s what I take issue with—not that there’s a potential evil lesbian, not that there’s a depiction of a mother abusing her daughters, but how this is depicted: not respectfully.

Referring more to my troublesome posts, I also want to address my point of how girls showing affection for other girls is often portrayed negatively in Kill la Kill, which could potentially send the message, “Hey, lesbians just be evilz.” Perhaps more than anything else, this hurt my readers the most. I wasn’t very clear and didn’t speak well, and I apologize.

Maybe surprisingly, I’ve also taken issue with the argument that Ryuko kissing Nui shows that a girl having an attraction towards another girl is bad. As I saw it, the kiss was simply a shocking way of showing that Ryuko is not at all herself; someone kissing the person they hate the most says more than words ever could. The scene isn’t an attack on wlw; the protagonist and the villain in this case just so happen to both be girls.

And I still believe this rebuttal. But I also have mixed feelings, which explains my previous responses. I once more have to question intentionality: if Ryuko were a boy, as shonen heroes so often are, would this scene have happened? Would Nui have been so flirty with him? Would there have been so much screen time and detail put into the kiss? Similar to my arguments about Ragyo, could there have been a potentially much more powerful scene whose power comes from its implications, not what it actually shows?

In all my years in the Kill la Kill fandom, I’ve seen reactions to that scene that find it hot, as “proving” that Ryuko/Nui is the only canon Kill la Kill pairing, and that see it in ways that I find to be unsavory. If the goal of that kiss is to cement the fact that Ryuko isn’t herself in the most shocking way possible, I could argue that it failed for a lot of viewers. In fact, one of my more looked-at posts is about why Ryuko kisses Nui. Its execution is confusing, and yes, I do believe it could potentially send some bad messages about wlw, even if that wasn’t intended.

Which, to bring this discussion back towards Ragyo, I want to take a moment to say that bad messages can be totally unintentional. As a writer myself, I think about potential bad unintentional messages all the time. For instance, in my aforementioned fairytale AU, I had a theme going (’cause it’s a fairytale and all): a healthy, beautiful baby is good, a healthy, ugly baby is bad, and an unhealthy, beautiful baby is good. Notice how there’s only one ugly baby, and they’re bad? I realized that this could subtly say something about ugly people, and I’ve decided to make a point about a heroic character being ugly in order to send the message that anyone can be good or bad, regardless of if they’re beautiful or ugly, healthy or unhealthy.

With Ragyo (and with Nui as well), I don’t at all think the intention is to show that girls loving other girls is wrong and bad. But the depiction, to me, leaves things to be desired. A lot of it feels fetishy, and the fact that Ragyo was purposely changed to a woman for “gross” concerns also greatly irks me.

And before I try to write up a conclusion of sorts, I do want to offer this: what if Ragyo stayed a man, but he was associated with white and rainbows as Ragyo is in the final cut? It was stated at this year’s Anime Expo that director Hiroyuki Imaishi has his heroic characters in black and villainous characters in white, which could possibly send messages like Darkness Isn’t Bad and the real villains are the ones who are perverting the purity, goodness, and so on that are associated with white. In the same way, if Ragyo were a man who seemed straight but had rainbow hair, it could send the message that the real villain is the one perverting this symbol of love and acceptance.

I don’t know. Just some food for thought.

Conclusion

I am bad at talking about Ragyo. I am bad at talking about serious topics. I’m sure this post proves as much.

But I hope I’ve done a better job of explaining my point of view than I did before. But if I didn’t—which, knowing me, is likely—I just want everyone to know that I don’t think you’re a reprehensible person if you like Ragyo. I don’t think Ragyo is “too evil” to be representation. I don’t think she’s some terrible, awful character whom nobody can love. (At least, in regards to the writing. I hope there’s agreement that she’s a terrible, awful person.)

While I have problems with Ragyo’s depiction, I don’t think anyone is horrible and wrong if they don’t and resonate with it. I know I certainly like things that others find horrible and wrong, like the Ryuko/Senketsu pairing that I’ve been attacked left and right for, and I more than recognize and voice my own problems with it whilst still loving what I love (and politely disagreeing with the problems that others see that I don’t!)

I know I’m not good at this. But I hope I’ve conveyed my thoughts respectfully, and that, even if you strongly disagree, you know I welcome and am open to your thoughts and perspective, if you would like to share. That’s why I write these posts at all.

[xiyukoyo-blog]

xiyukoyo

Rohan was young man, son of a wealthy industrialist in Maharashtra, in the final year of his MBA. Quiet good looking he was a guy of great ability and qualities. His dad had no doubt that he would one day take his business to unimaginable heights. Rohan had already proved himself, as many of the times he used to assist his father in managing the business. He was the key player in solving the labour problems they faced in the factories. He was the one who helped his father to keep the finance of the business as stable as one could in the times of global financial crises. As he was a guy of peculiar abilities and qualities, he had his very own peculiar preferences of sexual interests. He was attracted to women not of his age but of much elder to him. His quality preference was of women of in their late 30s and early 40s. He loved big boobs, big buttocks and a little fat on belly region. He preferred dusky complexion over complete fair. But as the circumstances were, he never got an opportunity to engage with women of his own preferences. His interest was strengthen by the Velamma comics. In fact Velamma was the one who set his urges for mature woman on par. But... He never could find his own Velamma. He used to check out women but never had ever find a women who would appeal to him sexually. And as he was studying MBA he rarely got time to find someone with his busy schedule of studies and helping his father in business. Moreover he was in final year of MBA so couldn't took risk by getting involved in other things than studies. He kept himself busy in studies. The final exam of MBA was near. It was only one and half month before he could leave for home with his father, and take the business gradually in his hands. But, it never is easy as it seems. That day, Rohan was studying in his room, when he got call from their manager. Usually, Rohan would rarely get call from him. Only when it was urgent he used to call Rohan. Rohan, quick in his mind knew, that something urgent has come up. He picked up the call and got the shock of his life when the manager, Suhas Uncle, who had great respect in Rohan's life, told Rohan that his father jus got a major cardiac arrest. When he was taken to the hospital the doctors tried their best, but... Rohan understood everything, he quickly packed his bags and left for his home. He was numb, not knowing what to do and how to do. He couldn't control, and let his tears make their way. After death of his mother when he was a child, Rohan's father was the one who had brought him up with great love and care, not letting him feel the need of his mother. Their bond was great. His father was everything Rohan ever had. When Rohan reached home, he saw his dad covered in white cloth of coffin. Rohan controlled himself, and showed the composure one could show at times such as this. Rohan completed all the after-death rituals. He asked his Uncle Suhas to somehow carry on the business till he comes back from the college after exam. And Rohan left for college. After a month, Rohan came back and started concentrating on the business. After his arrival everything started functioning smoothly. Rohan was ambitious just like his father. Rohan put forth a plan of constructing a manufacturing unit in a village, where he would easily get cheap labour, as well as he could also provide employment to the unemployed in the nearby area and also could use the local talent to help the business. He set the whole plan accordingly and started to work on it. He chose a place in Kolhapur near a river bank. Rohan alone went to check on the place. It took Rohan a long ride of about seven hour to go to that place. Rohan was exhausted driving the car for so long. Rohan reached the village by around seven in the evening. He still went to check the place. While he was inspecting, it got dark. The sun had already set. Rohan was very thirsty and had an appetite for so long, he had not ate anything since he had left home. He found a small cottage like house nearby the place. He was a little surprised as that place was a little far from the main village and there was no other house too. Rohan stopped by the cottage, and asked if anybody is there. A boy around 10 year old opened the door. Rohan asked him for some water. The boy called his mother, to get water for Rohan. Till the boy's mother was getting water for Rohan, the little boy and Rohan were talking to each other. Rohan asked the boy his name, the boy told his name as Ajay. It didn't took the two guys to get along with. Rohan's sixth sense told him that the boy was extraordinarily smart. Ajay's mother bought Rohan some water. Rohan after drinking one glass, asked for another. The woman got him another glass of water. Now Rohan was a little relaxed. The woman enquired about Rohan. Rohan told her that he had come to check on the place of the factory. The woman asked him if he had ate anything, because he seemed tired. Rohan shook his head. The woman offered him dinner, as it was nearly eight in the evening. Rohan hesitantly accepted the offer. He parked the car beside the house and went in. There was no electricity in the house. There were only kerosene lamps lit up. Out side there was only one lamp, in which one was barely able to see. In the light of the little lamps, the woman served Ajay and Rohan. Rohan was now carefully checking on the woman. He asked her name. Her name was, she told, was Asha. Rohan could see Asha, who just had taken bath, with wet hair, and a voluptuous body. Her assets were great, for a young man like Rohan, who has always dreamt of older woman. Asha was in her early 40's, Rohan guessed. She was wearing blouse and saree. Asha was wheatish in complexion. She was good looking. With straight nose, big eyes and a smile on her face in which Rohan saw a naughty sense. Rohan stared at her assets. Her chest was wide with big boobs around DD size. Her stomach was a little over than flat, and her buttocks were big. Big enough to give you an immediate hard on. He realized that Asha was perfect in every aspect, he desired in his type of women. His desires started poking him. His desires took over him. He wanted to sleep with Asha. He wanted her to be with him. He wanted her to be with him, everyday. Every morning, when he would wake up, he wanted to see Asha lying beside him. He wanted to suckle on her breasts, he wanted to knead them, he wanted his hard rock penis to rest in her pussy every night. He wanted Asha to share his house with him, share his room and bed with him. Every single probability of having sex was running through his mind. Rohan who had not had sex in recent times, felt that his penis was getting hard by just checking on Asha. Rohan was infatuated by Asha's great aesthetics. Rohan who never was distracted by girls was now distracted by a woman whom he never had even met before. Rohan, controlled his urges as he knew that it was not appropriate. But he in his mind had resolved, that one day, he will lie down with Asha, and will have great sex with her at least once, but not forcefully. But he could not make a plan. In the ordinary course of conversation, Rohan asked Asha, "Why you guys live alone, that too outside the village?" Aha answered, "A few years back my husband died of Typhoid fever. After death of my husband, my in-laws started harassing me, by saying that, because of my bad luck my husband died. So we moved out from the house of my in-laws. And now, we live here." Rohan was delighted to hear that Asha's husband was dead. He thought that he now had fair opportunity to have sex with Asha. But he did not show the enthusiasm on his face. Rohan- I am so sorry to hear about it. Asha- Now we are used to live like this. I just wish that my boy, Ajay, studies and get a good job and be a great man. Rohan- Oh sure he will. He is very bright. Rohan had the dinner and went outside to get some cool air. When he came back to the car his plan was ready. He had made a full proof plan to get laid with Asha. But for now he planned to leave for home in Mumbai. When he went inside the house, and told Asha that he is leaving, Asha and Ajay both insisted, that Rohan should stay for one night and then in the morning should leave for Mumbai. When Asha and Ajay both insisted on Rohan staying at their place, Rohan agreed. Ajay was very happy, as Rohan who was a knowledgeable person, used to answer many of Ajay's curious question which made Rohan intellectually attractive to Ajay and they bonded very well. Even before sleeping his questionnaire was continue. But when Asha interrupted, and asked Ajay to sleep and not to trouble Rohan anymore, Ajay slept kind of disappointedly. When Asha felt that Ajay was deep asleep, she got outside the house and was sitting simply idle thinking. Here Rohan could not sleep as he was not accustomed to the place. When he noticed that Asha was not there, he too went outside. There he saw, Asha sitting, thinking about something. Rohan- Why are you sitting outside? Asha- Oh, you did not sleep? Rohan- No, I could not sleep, it takes time to get accustomed to a new place. Asha smiled and said, "Yes, it does" Rohan asked Asha, "Why don't you live in the main village?" Asha- You know, we widow woman don't get respect from the villagers which we deserve as a human. The men in the village try to take advantage of our situation. They try to take advantage of us being helpless. It feels like a deer surrounded by lions and foxes. It feels very terrifying." Rohan was looking at her, imagining the situation and trying to understand the quantum of the issue. As a city guy he never had to witness such cruel truths of the society. He felt sympathy for Asha. But right now h could not do much about it. He some how comforted Asha. Asha, getting out of the emotional state, thanked Rohan for listening her problems as he was by no means involved in it. Rohan said, "It's okay." Asha- Tell me about you, how do you come here? Rohan told her the whole story. Asha was impressed by Rohan. Rohan was the first young man, successful, wealthy, talented, gentle, she had seen in her life. Once, for a second, a thought of 'she and Rohan getting together' crossed her mind, but she denied the probability. She later asked Rohan to visit her and Ajay, whenever he may come to the village. Rohan guaranteed to her that he will visit them when he will come to village. Rohan suggestively said to Asha, "Be ready, your life's going to change forever." Asha could not understand the meaning of what he said, but was happy that he had accepted to visit them. They went to sleep, that night. Early in the morning, Asha got up. She made tea for herself. Later before it was sunrise she went to take bath in the bathroom which was made up of some coconut tree leaves and a plastic sheet surrounding it. The noise of utensils woke up Rohan, but he did not rise from bed. He was watching Asha, and staring at her assets, imagining Asha naked with him lying in his bed, every morning. The thought of him fondling her breasts and fucking her cunt made him horny instantly. When he watched Asha going to bath, he rose from the bed and went to check on her. Here Ajay was still sleeping. Rohan, without making noise, went near the bathroom and started watching Asha, who was removing her clothes, from the gap left between the leaves and plastic sheet. When Asha removed her blouse, Rohan was awestrucked to see her melons. Her boobs were big. Big enough that Rohan would not have been able to hold one melon in one hand. Rohan had never seen such boobs in his entire life. On her big boobs were medium sized areolas, and on them were nipples, proud and erected about an inch long. Lata removed her saree and her petticoat. And here was her treasure, kept secret from the world for past few years. There was a bush of black hair over her pussy. But otherwise there was no existence of a single hair over her rest of the body. She was a perfect woman Rohan had always dreamt of. Rohan got an instant hard-on. But resisted himself and again came back near the door of the house. In a few time Asha came too. She smiled and said good morning to Rohan. Rohan too greeted her. Rohan complimented her that, "You look beautiful" and smiled at her. She too graciously accepted the compliment and a smile showing her shyness ran through her face. She cooked break fast for three of them. After having breakfast, Rohan said good bye to them and left, but before he left he gave them a ride in his car. Ajay and Asha were so much excited after the ride. They bid him good bye and asked him to visit again. Rohan assured them and went home. After coming home, he started working on the plan of the new plant, keeping in mind that he will visit Asha as soon as possible. He gathered his team and started working on the plant. It was month of April when the project of the new plant started. Rohan himself went to see the progress of the plant. He frequently visited Asha and Ajay. No sooner than he visited their bond grew stronger. Now Rohan was like a family member to Asha and Ajay. Once Ajay asked him if he can visit the city with Rohan, to which Rohan could not deny. He even Asked Asha to come with them. Asha initially denied but when Rohan insisted with firmness, she reluctantly agreed. Rohan took them with him in his car to his apartment in Mumbai. Ajay and Asha were first time coming to Mumbai. They were excited about the journey. Ajay in excitement was asking so many question to Rohan. Rohan too was enjoying their company. When they reached and entered the apartment, Ajay and Asha were awestrucked by it's luxury. They had seen this luxury only in movies of Bollywood. There was enough space to play cricket in the apartment and still enough rooms were left to sleep. It was a duplex apartment. Ajay, who got tired of the journey went to bed early. Now only Asha and Rohan were awake in the apartment. Rohan played smooth jazz in the background and set the lights on dim mode. They were sitting on the sofa facing each other. Asha curiously asked Rohan, "Do you live alone in such a big house?" Rohan laughed and said, "Yeah, what to do, I dont have a girlfriend nor anybody wants to marry this poor guy." Asha laughed. She asked, "what type of woman you want as your wife?" Rohan kept on looking at her and finally said, "I have seen a lady, but yet not asked her to marry me. As soon as time will come, I'll ask her." Asha- "Ah, Lucky girl!" Rohan laughed. Next day Rohan took them on Mumbai tour. They enjoyed each other's company. They had a lot of fun. Asha and Ajay enjoyed every bit of Mumbai as well as Rohan. Rohan insisted on them staying with him for a few days. Ajay accepted it as even he wanted to stay in such a big apartment where he could take bath in a bathtub. He loved the luxury which was there as well as he loved the library in the apartment. Rohan was happy that Ajay was not wasting time on TV and other things but was reading various books. He knew that, if provided with good opportunity and resources Ajay would make an excellent student. Rohan had in mind that he will keep Ajay with him and will enrol him in a good school, so that he will be provided with opportunity as well as resources. He himself will bear all his expenses. Later that day, a thought came in his mind that it will be a good opportunity for him to make Asha stay with him. As she too wants her child to learn and cannot stay away from him. Accordingly he asked first to Ajay, if he wanted to study in Mumbai, staying with Rohan. Ajay was more than happy to say yes. But he said, I will only stay here if my mother is with me and she permits me to stay. Thence later that day, Rohan asked Asha when Ajay was asleep. It was a positive shock for Asha, as she never had imagined all these efforts being made from a guy who was stranger a few months ago. But when Rohan convinced her by reasons, of great future of Ajay, she agreed. She was happy that now after living in a cottage cum house for few years she was going to live in a luxurious apartment, she will no more have to live a life of fear. Also the thought of being with Rohan was stronger in her mind. She told Rohan that she is unable to express her gratitude towards him. Asha said, "I'll always be grateful to you." Rohan said, "it's his pleasure to make future of a young bright kid." Asha showing gratitude hugged Rohan tightly. Rohan got excited by the hug, and he hugged her tightly too. The initial days were spent very good in the company of Ajay and Asha. Rohan took them to shopping and bought some good clothes for both of them. Asha insisted on getting sarees, hence Rohan bought her some quality sarees as well as some quality inner wears. Asha who was initially shy with Rohan had now opened up with him. Ajay got accustomed to the new life very easily, whereas Asha who was reluctant, got support from Rohan. Ajay, got mixed up with the kids in the society. As it was month of may, all the kids were going to summer camp. Ajay too wanted to go, but restrained himself as he thought that it would be inappropriate to trouble Rohan every time. When Rohan got to know of this from the other children of the society, he was surprised by the sensible thinking of Ajay, and rewarded him with the trip of summer camp with his friends. Everybody was happy. Ajay went for summer camp with his friends. The camp was of 15 days. Now it was only Rohan and Asha in the house. Rohan knew that he had a good opportunity to now concentrate on Asha. He started planning on seducing Asha. But he could not devise of any. Next day in the evening, Asha after taking bath was clothing up. She had not locked the door of her room. The door was a jar. Rohan who was sitting on comfy sofa, watching TV, got a call from the engineer of the plant work who wanted Rohan at the plant next week. After the call Rohan went in Asha's room to tell her that he will have to go to the village for the plant work. But when he entered the room, he saw Asha only in her bra and panty, trying to hook her bra, standing before the mirror. After seeing her, Rohan excused himself and closed the door of the room. He went back to sit on the sofa and was about to sit on it, that he heard Asha calling him. When he asked, she called him inside the room. When Rohan went inside, Asha was still trying to hook her bra. She was unable to do it properly. She asked him to set the hook. Rohan, who already had a hard on seeing Lata half naked, found a good opportunity to initiate her seduction. They were standing before mirror in the room. Rohan could see her front in the mirror and back with his eyes. She was a complete bombshell for Rohan. She had a curvy fine, busty body with a seductive appeal. Her front was too as beautiful as her back. Her big round boobs, deep navel area, her smooth thighs were a sight to behold. Rohan tried to hook the ends of the bra but could not as it was tighter than her size. Rohan asked Asha to set the cups of the bra properly, but she was busy drying her hair. She asked Rohan to do it. He was shocked to hear that. He asked her, if she was sure. She told Rohan to do it fast. For Rohan it was a moment of opportunity. Rohan grabbed the opportunity and set the cups of bra on her boobs. He took a little advantage of the situation and while setting the cups of bra on boobs, he touched her boobs. When set the cups, he pressed her boobs a little over the cups. Asha gave a naughty smile to Rohan. Rohan smiled back too in the mirror. Rohan set the hooks of the bra. After the hooks, he moved his hands from her bra to her waist. The feel was ecstatic for Asha. It filled Asha with the feeling of the Ultimate physical desire. Here Rohan did not remove his hands from her waist. When Asha looked at him in the mirror, he removed his hands, but his lusty mind still glided them over from her fleshy buttocks.

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[noccalula-writes]

Do age gaps bother you?

I’ve spent enough time watching fights unfold on Book Twitter to think this question might be a trap so I guess the answer depends on whether or not I’m gonna get called a p*dophile if I think an 18 year old fucking a 40 year old is the worst thing that ever happened? 

If you’re looking for some solidarity in terms of not wanting to be dragged for liking what you like then you’ll find it here - age gaps don’t bother me, especially in fiction, though I think we should all be looking at older men who seek out younger partners as a pattern with a critical eye. I do also hold IRL men who deliberately seek out younger women (particularly 25 and younger) in high suspicion. I always have to wonder what the fuck is wrong with a guy that women his own age don’t want anything to do with him, and it’s so easy for them to translate that into ‘nobody understands me but YOU, young nubile person’, which definitely appeals to those who want to be seen as worldly and mature. It’s complex, like most human nature. I speak on this from experience. A lot of my first interests/boyfriends/etc were much older than I was, and I was def a young woman who got mistaken for being older than I was (and in some cases not mistaken but rather targeted by men who didn’t care that I was 16, 14, 12). When I was in my early 20′s and Cyn and I were still experimenting a lot with what an open relationship meant to us, I got involved with my philosophy professor, who was easily 40. At the time it seemed grand and sweeping and deep and I reveled in how much attention he paid me and how smart he thought I was. Now, at 33, I look back at it with a sour taste in my mouth because the odds are that I was not the first, second, or thirteenth such student and I have to wonder what the hell is wrong with him that this was his preferred place to look for that kind of attention and yet he couldn’t maintain his on-again, off-again relationship with another professor who was his age (she hated me, in case you were curious). Fiction is supposed to be exploratory. Fiction isn’t there to teach you major life lessons about yourself or morality as a tacit - if work does that for you, then that’s wonderful, but it’s not the responsibility of every single writer on the planet to evolve you as a person. If you specifically look to jack off to student/professor smut fic, then by all means, you do you. I worry about the complete lack of nuance that’s overtaking this weird wave of puritanical fandom perspective, and I worry about the fact that a writer who wrote underage fic about an abusive relationship as a csa survivor got called a p*do TO THEIR PUBLISHER and got dragged across the coals. It’s not productive, it’s not helping end any sort of predatory behavior, it’s just making sure the water is too toxic for anybody who might need a hand out of it to feel safe speaking up. Further, nobody owes it to re-victimize themselves on the fucking pire for some audience of malicious internet strangers in order to beg to be spared from their ire. It’s gross.

If you’re into age gaps, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. If you’re not and they squick you, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you either. Human sexuality and psychology is vast and nuanced and terrifying and wonderful, and there is more to it than you can put in 140 snide characters aimed at whatever target makes someone feel more powerful. 

(btw something weird is happening with the spacing on this post, so I apologize if it’s either one wall of text or with eighty huge spaces)